Carnivorous.
I've been a vegetarian for the last 6 years. I can't really explain why I started, except to say I had an epiphany of sorts when I was 14 or so. I had a few older friends who were vegan at the time, and they let me read some vegetarian/vegan literature that completely turned me off the idea of eating meat. I guess at the time it was something to do, something with which to identify. I don't remember if I thought it would last, but it has.
Each time I meet someone new, or each time someone I know semi-well finds out that I'm vegetarian, they always ask why. And for the longest of times I had difficulty telling people why I didn't eat meat. When I was about 16 or so, I started to identify moreso with the idea of not eating meat out of protest of factory farming, unsanitary and unhealthy production, and overall shady and underhanded conditions for animals. I started explaining how I wasn't against the eating of the meat, but rather how it's produced, manufactured, harvested. The healthiest of diets, I would read, were those that were meat free, with emphasis on fresh fruits, vegetables, legumes, whole grains, et cetera. This is really what I've been basing my ideological diet and eating lifestyle on for the last few years of my vegetarianism.
Well, this week marked the first time in six years I knowingly and willingly ate meat (there were some accidental slip-ups along the way). As any of you (who read this thing semi-often, granted) will know, I'm spending a few months overseas this summer, in a country where food and the production of said food is perhaps the most culturaly identifying trait about the country. I've wrestled with the idea of staying vegetarian when I'm in Italy, and for a while the thought of eating meat while abroad never so much as crossed my mind. But, I rationed, eating in Italy and eating in the United States are so vastly different, as concepts, that I couldn't really attach my Americanized rationale to something un-American, like Italian fare. I felt like I would be missing out on a big part of local culture if I filtered what I would and would not eat.
When you eat prosciutto in Italy, you can safely bet that either Mr. Macellaio fed and raised that pig, or someone he knows did. When you eat fresh parmigiano, you can count on one hand what's in your cheese. (Try doing that with any food in the states.)
Oh, so why did I start early? Well, just like any regularity, if you don't put meat in your body for so long, it will learn to process foods differently. So i've been taking it slow, for now, with small amounts of pollo and occasionally turkey, to get my body accustomed to it again.
It's still very, very strange. But, eventually, I'll be conditioned well enough. And then, look out Mr. Macellaio, and prepare the salumi.
Each time I meet someone new, or each time someone I know semi-well finds out that I'm vegetarian, they always ask why. And for the longest of times I had difficulty telling people why I didn't eat meat. When I was about 16 or so, I started to identify moreso with the idea of not eating meat out of protest of factory farming, unsanitary and unhealthy production, and overall shady and underhanded conditions for animals. I started explaining how I wasn't against the eating of the meat, but rather how it's produced, manufactured, harvested. The healthiest of diets, I would read, were those that were meat free, with emphasis on fresh fruits, vegetables, legumes, whole grains, et cetera. This is really what I've been basing my ideological diet and eating lifestyle on for the last few years of my vegetarianism.
Well, this week marked the first time in six years I knowingly and willingly ate meat (there were some accidental slip-ups along the way). As any of you (who read this thing semi-often, granted) will know, I'm spending a few months overseas this summer, in a country where food and the production of said food is perhaps the most culturaly identifying trait about the country. I've wrestled with the idea of staying vegetarian when I'm in Italy, and for a while the thought of eating meat while abroad never so much as crossed my mind. But, I rationed, eating in Italy and eating in the United States are so vastly different, as concepts, that I couldn't really attach my Americanized rationale to something un-American, like Italian fare. I felt like I would be missing out on a big part of local culture if I filtered what I would and would not eat.
When you eat prosciutto in Italy, you can safely bet that either Mr. Macellaio fed and raised that pig, or someone he knows did. When you eat fresh parmigiano, you can count on one hand what's in your cheese. (Try doing that with any food in the states.)
Oh, so why did I start early? Well, just like any regularity, if you don't put meat in your body for so long, it will learn to process foods differently. So i've been taking it slow, for now, with small amounts of pollo and occasionally turkey, to get my body accustomed to it again.
It's still very, very strange. But, eventually, I'll be conditioned well enough. And then, look out Mr. Macellaio, and prepare the salumi.
posted by John Cropper at
9:46 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home