Last week was unusal in the sense that I ate a lot of healthy food on purpose. And I'm not talking about salads and protein shakes, I'm talkin bout "live" food and fake meat. Hello, I live in the Bay Area.

I helped my friend Cat move into her new place and we went to Cafe Gratitude so she could, you know, thank me. I have to say, if you live in the Bay Area and have guests that say, "We want to experience the essence of Berkeley in all its hippie glory," then after walking up Telegraph, stopping by the nude parade, and taking a turn in the drum circle, take them to Cafe Gratitude for lunch/dinner.

When you walk in, you are greeted by the desserts. They might as well say hello because they are made from what the hippies call "live food", which means that nothing has been cooked or baked or processed. It's alive, living, unbaked, half-baked, or what have you. The hostess seats you and you have your choice: a two-seater in a high traffic and therefore inadequate place or at one of the many communal tables. Natch.

So we sit at one of the communal tables (where someone is wearing tye dye, I kid you not) and we are told about how the cafe started---from a board game. I won't relay the whole story here - just go and find out for yourself. FYI, the board game isn't a whole lotta fun. It's like getting socks and oranges for Christmas.

We were given menus that ironically smelled like sour milk. Must have been recycled, unbleached hemp paper. I looked at the menu and wondered how on earth I would be able to order and keep a straight face: every dish is an affirmation. So when you order you say, "I'd like the: I am succulent. I am terrific. I am aloha."

Yes. You do.

And then they serve you: "You are succulent?" I nod my head. "You are succulent. You are terrific. You are aloha. Enjoy."

The servers have mastered the art of the question asking. They have to be careful not to question that you are terrific or beautiful or creative, but rather identify who ordered what. Because they don't want you to think they disagree or are putting a judgment on what you ordered, disrupting the tipping karma.

I was really gungho about ordering once I got past the hippieness of it all. I was really stoked to be trying raw food because I think it's unbelievable and fascinating. It's practically art. But my dining companion killed my buzz a little when she told me to take it easy my first time because, "It does a number on your system if you're not used to it." Grrreat.

A lot of people seem to come to this place to celebrate their birthdays. Twice the entire waitstaff came and sang to people. Those people must have ordered the I am embarrassed and I am dying on the inside.

A couple of days later, I went to The Breakroom, a trendy little cafe in Downtown Oakland near where I work. Everything is vegetarian or vegan, down to their cookies and cupcakes and facon. I ordered the Turkey Bacon sammich, and it was deliciously cozied up to their homemade pickles. In fact, I went back this week because it was so good.

So I think I'm turning into an accidental vegan. It might be contagious.

I might just have to get it out of my system, and when you want to clear your system, there's only one place to go. Cafe Gratitude, anyone?

Here's the menu: