Contains: Wheat, Soya

Free from: Palm Oil, Nuts

It’s been YEARS since I’ve had any “cold cuts” and they’re rare to see on supermarket shelves but trust in Fry’s family to be the saving grace. Their thick and meaty slicing sausage is an a-fucking grade meat replacement. It’s also pretty expensive for £3.99 but it’s also probably not a good idea to be eating this on the regs. (Note: I got too excited and sliced through half of it before I took a photo, it does come as a full sausage)

This is not quite the bologna you knew before. It comes in the same BDSM-inspired plastic packaging with the clamps at each end and has the same weight and feel as your everyday slicing sausage but underneath the texture is a little bit off. It’s definitely not bad and it’s the same “compacted meat” feel of meat but it’s a little spongier? Cakier? Not the kind of words I’d want associated with my meat. That said, it’s still pretty close to the real thing and being able to eat cold cuts again means I’m not all that fussed about a little stodginess. There’s the chunky bite to it, the way it feels in your mouth – all baloney.

Fry’s have nailed the taste on this. Crucified it. It’s pretty much what I remember bologna tasting like, though a little dry it’s still rich. It’s real salty (what sausage isn’t) but real peppery at the same time and it’s also got that weird salami-like after taste to it as well. I would honestly put this at a solid 8/10 for closeness the real deal.

Using this as a replacement? Yes. All sorts of yes. The texture is a little weird but if you were to use it for just about anything other than those fancy bourgeoisie charcuterie boards, you could slip this in unnoticed. The other slight thing that makes it slightly more distinguishable is, as I said, it’s real salty. For essentially £4, I would say it’s a good one-off buy but the fact it IS hard to find but is still the best cold cut alternative I’ve come across yet.

• My Rating: 4/5
• Omnivore Score: 4/5
• Overall: 4/5

Find this product at: Holland and Barrett and Ocado.

 

Contains: Wheat, Soya

Free from: Palm Oil, Nuts

Now THAT title is a mouthful. With Halloween just gone, it’s that Christmas time of year (and I’ll join our fellow punks, Marxists, socialists and anti-capitalists in groaning in distaste) which means one thing: roast dinner. No matter if you celebrate it or not, winter is a perfect time to be sat inside for a cosy roast, with maple roasted parsnips, garlic butter brussel sprouts and cranberry jelly but it’s always a cause for stress. For £3.50, Linda’s got you covered.

I won’t lie, I didn’t expect my roast to come in a foil pastry tray. It’s not a problem (hell, there’s very few things that would get in the way of my food, foil is not one of them) but it was surely unexpected. It doesn’t really look appealing either, just a flat “meatloafy” log that someone’s slapped into a dish, hardly the rustic and mouth-watering meal you’re going for but don’t let that put you off. All in all, not off to a good start. Then I stopped all my moaning and shut up. Straight out of the oven it smells like glazed shallots and looks much much richer than the frozen TV dinner I was first greeted with. I figured I’d try some of it dry and some with gravy but you know what? I didn’t even need any. Its bottom is soaked in a hot, sticky, smoky red wine glaze and it retains so much moisture it’s like digging in to a drowned pigeon. The meat itself has the same crumbly texture of stuffing but it’s not as dry and isn’t going to suck all the water out of you. Instead it sits perfectly well in your belly with mouthfuls of syrupy sauce and hunks of “meat”.

Taste? Well, it doesn’t taste of meat or roast dinner and I’d be pretty damn horrified if it did. No, this is beyond that. It’s pretty non-offensive and doesn’t opt for strong flavours in itself but definitely bulks out your lonely collection of brussel sprouts, peas and carrots. It’s not there to add crazy flavour to your dish, just to soak up the gravy and add a little juice of its own (everyone loves a little of their own juice, right?)

I wouldn’t recommend trying this out for everyone at the dinner table. It’s no pork belly or turkey, but it’s damn good all the same. It doesn’t try to be identical to your meat and doesn’t go the other extreme of tasting like your uncle’s “famous nutroast”. All in all, Linda never disappoints and I’m shocked you even read this far before figuring it out Hail Linda, hail.

• My Rating: 4/5
• Omnivore Score: 3/5
• Overall: 3.5/5

Find this product at: Tesco’s, Ocado, Saisnbury’s and Iceland.

 

Contains: Wheat, Soya 

Free from: Palm Oil, Nuts

I’ve been vegan for long enough now that I know going off the big brands is a gamble. In this case, I put some money into a poker game only to realise I should’ve been playing blackjack. What I mean is, this burger? Shit burger. However it’s not actually too bad if you judge it as a falafel. After the recommended cooking time of 25 minutes (an eternity in JFP time, I write this now as an incontinent, decrepit old man) I got what might as well have been a dry and crumbly falafel. At £2.29 for two patties, it’s actually not too bad (but not worth it, recommend: do not buy).

Texture is dry. It looks like a Martian landscape, it feels like a Martian landscape and quite frankly it’s the ugly step-sister of any burger I’ve tried before. As soon as you bite into it, it’s dry – the moisture just ripped from your mouth and replaced with sand. It’s mealy and grainy. I realised though that since it is actually quite similar to badly made falafel, throwing this into a pitta with some hummus and spinach? Deal maker. The outer crustiness (in the good way, not the “Hey doc, does this look crusty to you?” way) and crunchiness definitely needs something like a spread or a sauce to even it out, otherwise it’s all trash.

One thing I didn’t expect this to hold up well in (and it didn’t, you absolute disappointment to food) was taste. Everyone who’s had tofu will tell you that if you don’t treat your tofu right, it’s going to taste of nothing. This is exactly what’s happened here. Essentially you’re given a puck of tofu and beans (not a bad place to start) but that’s it. Just the taste of tofu and beans – essentially nothing. With no discernible meat taste and the shittest texture in the world of junk food, this burger is a low scorer.

Without wanting to subject our in-house omnivore experts, let me tell you now that this is bottom of the pile scum. There’s no place for this in any vegan, vegetarian, omni, fruitarian, pescetarian, or other x-tarian cookbooks.

• My Rating: 1/5
• Omnivore Score: 1/5
• Overall: 1/5

Find this product at: Holland & Barrett, Morrison’s and other health food stores.

 

Contains: Wheat

Free from: Palm Oil, Nuts, Soya

Special shout out to a couple of JFP fans for giving me this to try out. Now, without sounding horribly offensive to those who gifted them, the orange hockey pucks (see below) were possibly not the worst thing I’ve tried from Cauldron. We’ll get to where they rank on my burger scale (hail Linda) but my first point of contention is the pricing. For £2.50 you’ll receive two small and very cylindrical cakes. Fairly expensive when compared with both the meat and other vegan options.

We all remember what a meat patty felt like. Thick, juicy and chunky – something with a little substance to it. Cauldron clearly don’t.  It has some bite to it (some of us like a little chunkiness, what can I say) but what should’ve been a bite of burger suddenly turned out to be a baby food. I’m not necessarily against mash either – mashed potatoes? Yes. Mashed peas? Oh, most definitely. Mashed beans? Um, maybe not. It’s not terrible but it definitely doesn’t live up as a burger especially as it comes off as a dry paste. It’s as if a trucker had ran over a tin of Heinz’ best and left it to sizzle on the asphalt for a few days. There are a few chunks of beans and other indiscernible vegetables present, but it all amounts to the same soft, mushy texture that leaves you with the mouthfeel equivalent of regurgitated bird food.

Taste? I would say it’s somewhat acquired but it’s also something I grew to like. Having eaten a dry one (just dry sand) and a saucy one (just wet sand), any sauce helps to disguise its texture and focus more on its flavour which I would recommend. It’s got a strong bean taste, not quite refried beans but more like pinto. Again, not unpleasant but not exactly going to knock Linda off her throne.

Overall? Not bad. I wouldn’t buy them on a regular basis or even on a singular basis after this taste test. Texture gets it a solid 1/5 but the taste is honestly a bit of a saviour (hail Jesus Taste, the saviour of food). It would not, under any circumstances, make an accurate substitute. Nope, no, nein, never.

• My Rating: 3/5
• Omnivore Score: 1/5
• Overall: 2/5

Find this product at: Tesco’s, Saisnbury’s, Morrison’s and other stores.

 

Contains: Wheat

Free from: Palm Oil, Nuts, Soya

WARNING WARNING WARNING. People who are: weak of stomach, pregnant, below the age of 18, above the age of 18 and those with love for themselves, do not read on. This won’t be the last you’ll hear this about VBites but let’s talk more about this “Gourmet” Beanfeast Pate (hint: it’s neither gourmet nor a feast). It’s £1.89 from Holland & Barret, which means it’s not expensive. There’s a reason for that.

It fucking sucks. If I were to compare its texture to a real pate? Sure, it’s spot on. Grainy, a little bitty yet still smooth and spreadable. That doesn’t mean it’s good. It’s too grainy, it tastes like the way organic sounds. I type this now as I struggle to keep it down with its dry and mealy feel, like a mouthful of dirt. Not good dirt, more like that manure, maggot infested compost that industrial farms use. If you’re ever holding a fancy dinner party or would like an upmarket lunchtime snack, look elsewhere.

Maybe it tastes good? Maybe it’s made up for by it’s delicious “beanfeast” and “gourmet” flavours? Maybe it teases your taste buds and makes its shit texture worthwhile. In true dream-crushing fashion, it doesn’t. It’s none of the above. It does taste of beans, pure beans. Initially it’s almost like it could have been pleasant at one time. Then it struck. The aftertaste is an amalgam of spam (possibly pig anus, who knows) and beans, all blended into some sick, twisted joke of a pate.

I’m not even going to entertain the idea of feeding this to a non-vegan, non-human or non-meat eating soul. It offends me, my family and everything I’ve ever known. Vbites, you fucking suck.

• My Rating: 1/5
• Omnivore Score: 1/5
• Overall: 1/5

Find this product at: Holland & Barret and various health food stores.