Earning the right to eat

I’ve flirted with vegetarianism.  Given veganism my number.  Even had a steamy, tawdry affair with raw foods.  I do keep coming back to meat, though.  In different degrees, and based on an intuitive sense of what I can bring myself to consume.  I expect I’ll repeat the foray into meatlessness again at several points in the future.

Sometimes it was based on a certain guilt about consuming other creatures.  At others it was an issue of the quality of the products (non-organic, medicated, living conditions, processing techniques, ethics, etc).  Yet, something always brings me back to the land of the meat devourers.  Usually bacon.  Smoky, salty, sultry seductress…

I’ve set a few guidelines for myself as well, or rather, the guidelines have revealed themselves as personal truths.

For starters, I can’t bring myself to eat anything I’ve had as a pet.  Aside from the obvious dogs and cats, which can breathe a sigh of relief at this stay of execution, this also includes ducks and rabbits.

Technically we had chickens growing up, too, but they never responded to me (cold, distant snots) so apparently I’m fine to consign them to a roasted-until-golden gallows.

Personally, I think we should be made aware of food processing.  Even (no, especially) if it involves horrible, traumatizing, graphic visuals.  If you can see these things, and reconcile them with your own ethics and acceptability, then congratulations, you’ve earned the right to eat it!  Meat doesn’t grow in shrink-wrapped trays in the back of the grocery store.

On my recent time spent in Morocco this was blaringly displayed in the food markets where your meat is often freshly killed for you.  We had enrolled in a cooking course, which included shopping for the meal ingredients.  Knowing that I can’t bear witness to the carnage, I voted to go for the beef dish, as we didn’t have to make eye contact with our meal beforehand.  Only to reconcile the pieces being cut from the hanging carcass.

Yes, this was a wuss-out on my part.  I mean, it still came from SOMEwhere.  I’d just prefer my food to not have any memory of having seen me.

It’s easy enough to disassociate oneself when on unfamiliar territory, though.  Even back on the home front, however, this was brought into crisp focus when, on a trip to the JN&Z Deli on Commercial Drive, they were loading the pre-processed pigs into the store.  I watched as passerby quickened their step, averted their eyes, and generally pretended not to witness the offloading.

Photos courtesy of Michael C.

We like end results, and prefer ignorance to process.

I don’t claim to have achieved any sort of resolution within this post.  I don’t expect to do so until I have either a) become a complete devout vegetarian, or b) become a disconnected sociopath with no value for other creatures.

I do, however, allow these reflections to influence my/our eating habits.  There is an INSANE amount of time and thought put into sourcing the ingredients with which I cook.  At times, yes, it would be far easier to buy the warehouse pack of chicken pieces, or pre-seasoned miscellaneous meat appetizers.  Yet, if I am to wield totalitarian control within my kitchen, then I also need the same absolute control of what enters it. 

Simple.

A concerned parent wouldn’t enroll their child in a school without at least having some clue of the reputation of the teachers.  And so it is for me.

Now, I'm not quiiite as bad as these two... yet.  Give me time.