What's an IBA? An Indian Born American, of course… and there are plenty of us in my age group -- late 30s -- with families of our own. Gen XY? You got it. Not a boomer, but not a baby.

Now, it seems to be politically correct and spiritually correct to be a vegetarian these days. If you take a look at the Internet, you'll see pages and pages of links to vegetarianism -- some spiritually oriented, and mostly by Westerners. You won't find lots of pages from Indians like me who say, “Yay! I'm a vegetarian! I'm a lacto-ovo or vegan (or whatever the heck category) of vegetarian that's safest. I'm for the ethical treatment of animals! Save the cow from extinction!” Whatever. If I'm any indication of the 'average' second-generation Indian-American, if there is such a creature, then most of us are vegetarians by habit and not necessarily by choice. And Indians tend to be -- for the most part -- a closed-mouthed bunch, anyway, so we don't advertise our choices on this matter.

Our parents didn't cook meat or fish or fowl in the home and we simply grew up eating that way. It wreaks havoc sometimes (during catered business lunches, or say, in any town south of Nashville, TN) but it has never put me, personally, at a loss for good food. On the contrary, I think that by being vegetarian, you are forced to find creative ways of cooking and you tend to try new things more often to expand your field of possibilities. My husband and kids are all carnivores, as I happily categorize them, and yes, I do cook the oft-referred-to tandoori chicken or lamb curry. However, I think I have an appreciation for pastas and veggies and fruits and other foods that they don't possess. Let me explain.

My mother and grandmother took me to the market often when I was young. Back then, Jungle Jim's in Cincinnati was a small market with a few shopping carts and these wonderful elephants that spouted water near the parking lot. We would saunter up and down the aisles looking at the beautiful greenery around us. Tomatoes piled high in precarious pyramids, luscious oranges and apples, and tender chunks of sample pineapple that I stole more than the allotted-one-per-customer of; all of these were part of an intrinsic memory of my childhood.

My mother and grandmother were naturals in the kitchen -- when it came time to whip up meals for 25 or more people, they would do it with aplomb. And talk about memories -- I can still smell my grandma's masala dosa and vengaya sambar (which, of course, I have never mastered).

Flash forward to my marriage and now, my children. I'm the grocery shopper now. My 13-year-old walks with me at the grocery area in the supermarket and exclaims, “Mom, I can't eat that… that's gross,” while carefully picking out pop, pizza, frozen meals, and other teenage junk food faves. Thankfully, my 8-year-old twins still accept whatever is on their plate without too much complaint.

Shopping now in the rural area in which I live is much harder than shopping for food in Cincinnati. Items for vegetarians are limited and ethnic choices are very limited. I usually stock up on things whenever I make a run to Cincinnati, or order online now, but otherwise we live on the basic staples of the American diet -- potatoes, onions, veggies that are grown on local farms and whatever I can whip up for 5 people after a 9 hour day at work.

It's easier to cook dishes that aren't vegetarian, that's for sure, especially for a family of five. Sometimes I wonder if the kids don't get sick to death of peanut butter and jelly or cheese sandwiches for lunch. I wish sometimes that I could come home and throw a chicken in the oven with some stuff on it and make a quick salad and be done for the evening, but that's not the case. Usually, dinner means 3 or 4 different dishes that take an average of an hour or two to make.

Our family has eating rituals just like other families. For example, Saturday mornings are always 'pancakes with whatever fruit is in the fruit basket' days and Sundays are 'big omelets stuffed to the edges with mushrooms and cheese or spinach and onions or tomatoes and green chillies' days. Friday nights are pizza nights. Mondays are usually soup and grilled cheese dinners. (Well, Mondays are blah for everyone.)

It's not so much about whether the food is spiritually or politically correct to eat -- it's about how the food looks and feels and tastes and warms your soul, as should be the case, I think.

Vegetarianism for me is a feeling of home and family and all that is important. It's not a statement of choice as much as it is a feeling… the feeling I get when I am lucky enough to find mangoes in December, or the feeling I get when the parathas puff up gently on the frying pan, or when the small restaurant down the block adds a terrific new pasta primavera, or when the kids say, “God, Mom that was great -- can I have more?”

We are healthier I think, and we do tend to follow that pyramid thingy the government has put out for optimum health closer than the average Joe. But never trust the government too much, I say (and that comes from a bona fide Political Science major who graduated summa cum laude, thankyouverymuch). 'Do what makes you feel good, and do what feels right' is my motto.

Now in my midlife, after my grandmother's death, I have taken up cooking again with a vengeance and perhaps it is because I want to preserve her legacy. No one made murrukkus or idlis quite like she did and I suppose I want my kids to experience the same wonderful foods I did when growing up. The funny thing is I am going back to basics -- and keeping it vegetarian. It hasn't been easy, but it is possible and healthy as a side benefit.

Who knows? Maybe one of my three boys will carry on my own legacy of Indian vegetarian cooking one day! Wouldn't that be something?