Turning the Tables

I thought about Lucinda's experimentation with vegetarianism and veganism the other day and wondered how someone crossing over from the other side would manage, i.e. going from a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle to including meat-consumption.  By crossing-over, I must include that this person is coming from a vegetarian/vegan culture.  What would that be like?  How would their community react?

I imagine the main question for this person would be "Why did you decide to start eating meat?" or "Why do you eat meat?"

I asked myself this question over and over again a few weeks ago  observing when I did eat meat.  As much as I like to think my eating habits are intuitive, I found that my reasons for eating meat often aren't.  My current list on why I eat meat.

From Naturally Local: Life of a Foodie, Farmer, Free-Spirit and Activist

Typical reasons:

1. I enjoy its taste

More subtle reasons in my subconscious based on family, in-born expectations (not unlike nutritional superstition!).  These reasons are not what I believe in my heart, but they do exist in my reactions because of how I was raised, what I'm exposed to societally, etc:

1. It is more nutrient dense (not true, but my mom was a dietitian; growing up, we all believed this)
2. I grew up eating meat
3. I need it to be healthy
4. It is easier to prepare
5. I  have money, now, so I deserve it (entitlement)
6. It is just easier to make meals with meat since most of the family desires meat in their food

My typical reason is, to me, a perfectly acceptable reason for eating meat.  It is an honest reason in terms of intention.  The other reasons are ones I don't like to admit to--they are reasons that haunt me when I'm in a jam, need a quick food fix and throw a steak on the grill, or when I'm tired of eating seasonal produce during a limited season (hello, anyone else, turnip overload in winter?), or when I have family over and don't want to offend them by not including meat on the menu (immigrant family who looks at meat as valuable and a sign of respect to serve, even after living in the U.S. for over 3 decades).

Of course, I know how to fix all these issues.  Cook meals ahead of time.  Suck it up and eat leftovers and the rest of my turnips.  Explain to family that the 4.00/pint berries are honoring them more than just as much as fresh side (I concede, I too am addicted to pork belly).  Blah blah blah blah blah.  Basically, when I don't eat meat to savor its flavor and experience, I'm being a wee bit lazy.

I can't change how I was raised, what I was exposed to socially growing up, or even what peer pressure can sometimes generate during a madhouse of family holidays (the fanfare, the heightened emotions!).  But it is by forcing myself to face The Silly that keeps me honest about my intentions and helps me make changes to my life that require a huge paradigm-shift.  For example, when I found out back in 2006 that beef-consumption contributes more CO2 emissions than domestic car use alone (newest numbers, 78%), it was a shock to our pride-party that our car only uses 35 mpg.  It was a shock that a big action--like buying a fuel-efficient car--had less of an effect on the environment than taking in smaller amounts of meat everyday while making sure the meat we DID take in was dimensionally the highest quality possible.

I guess I'm throwing all this personal exploration out there to see if anyone else has struggled with these sorts of issues.  Why do YOU eat meat?  Why don't you?  What was your journey to changing behaviors, and when was it difficult for you?

Bits and Pieces

From Naturally Local: Life of a Foodie, Farmer, Free-Spirit and Activist

I had a post circulating in my head for two months about World Food Day (October 16th), but two weeks of visitors and a teething 7-month old baby has left my brain better for snippets. Do you ever have days, or perhaps entire weeks like that? You can read about some of the current (tip of the iceberg) issues on Food First's website.

Regarding Pigs
A call from Lucinda one evening, softly telling me on the phone that my pigs were on their way sparked my imagination. I saw darkness, heard the hushed whispers, the soft snorting and treading of pigs...of course, they weren't all my pigs, but as a meat-eater, I felt responsible for honoring all of them. I choose Barbara Kingsolver's term "harvest" when referring to the collection of animals for food. Someone told me that it was disrespectful to compare the sacrifice of animal creatures to eating salad. I disagree, as I have the same level of reverence for any vegetation I consume. That comes from gardening (sometimes fruitlessly!) and the knowledge that we share 40% of our DNA with lettuce, amongst other vegetables. 40%--how can you take a salad lightly after knowing that?

CFAF virus
The other day, I felt really tired. I wanted to eat strawberries. In November. In Missouri...right. And fresh peaches. And blueberries. I am quite sure that I caught the CFAF virus: craving far-away food virus. That is Far as in Distance and Far as in Spring-won't-be-here-for-several-months Far. "Blast this local food organic thing!" I shook my fist at the sky--or rather, my cracked ceiling--blast blast blast! And then I remember how fattening imported and non-organic food is--really, it has more calories! The energy to develop pesticides and fertilizers, create GMOs, ship produce from far off places like California, Ecuador, Hawaii and even South Africa--those strawberries probably have at least 5,000 calories each, if not more. Can you assign a caloric value to the infringement of human rights? I'm thinking the use of illegal immigrants and all its trappings. Methyl Bromide. Fruit bred to look more beautiful than it tastes (this is a reoccurring theme in food, as well as popular culture, no?) I see the face of a worker made ill because of chemicals use in this particular agriculture. I see the chemicals wash into the watershed, past homes with children playing in yards. Into the streams, rivers, aquifers and oceans. Ah, no thank you. I'll just wait. My impatience is gone. I'm cured!

In Season

Brussels sprouts were instant love for me. Or so I thought. I am a massive greens eater. If there are massive amounts of greens around, well...you get the picture. Have you ever had a chat with someone and found something somewhat familiar and thought you knew everything thing about it, come to find you were totally off? It's very human, and how we make connections, and why we have the ability (if we choose) to say, "Oh, I was soooo wrong about THAT! Excuse me! I thought I knew." Well, that is what I did to Mr. B. Sprouts.

I thought I knew Brussels Sprouts. What's not to recognize? They look like tiny cabbages--how hard can they be to cook? Not hard at all, provided that you don't treat them like a cabbage. That thing with apples and vinegar--not so good with brussels sprouts. Asian stir-fry? Possible, but not optimal. Now, a simple treatment where they are sliced in half and drizzled with oil and a sprinkling of salt and pepper...roasted for 25-35 minutes or until as tender as you like (I tend towards less rather than more time).

If you enjoy greens, these are better than french fries. Really!

Here's to real Autumn weather and real food!

I remember feeling cheated by fall as a kid. School was in full session, the city pools closed for the season, and paper pumpkins and autumn leaves adorned the open windows and doors of my classroom--doors and windows open because it was 93 degrees outside. It wasn't enough that the discord between the visual cues of decorative hay bales and swimming weather felt deceptive to my 8-year-old little brain, but that clothing stores also seemed to follow that same crazy logic. Gray wool trousers and button-down-shirts deemed as "in season clothing" didn't cut it in ice cream and watermelon weather, no matter what reality manufacturing and sales tried to apply.

In college, I had the same disappointing realization about food. Food, as I knew it at the time, was not what it seemed. To make a very long story short, an affair with A Tomato is what tipped me off. And who here hasn't experienced the disappointment of a supermarket tomato? Even worse, who here has but didn't know at the time to be disappointed? Always available, beautiful in the market with its shiny, taut skin and bright red color--what's not to love? Oh, the flavor. Does bland and grainy count as a flavor? But the store was selling the tomato. The signs said "delicious, vine-ripened tomatoes!" Nothing indicated that the tomato was bred to withstand shipping, rather than bred to taste delicious. Oh, but wait, it was suppose to be delicious. Delicious can be a relative term, but I think you have to draw the line at some point. Point being when the tomato doesn't taste like a tomato. And then there's the tomato's long drive across the country (California tomatoes in Missouri, in August!!). What was I paying for, really, and did any of it make sense?

That reality of not even knowing what we deserve from our food with regards to quality, source and safety is most disturbing to me. Our odds as informed and deserving consumers have improved over the past few years because of the recent surge of interest in the environment, obesity and food safety, but there is still that discrepancy between what authorities say our food is (safe? organic?) and our expectations (how safe is they're definition of safe? what does it mean to be labeled organic?) . This is why Lucinda, and farmers/food suppliers like Lucinda, are so important. They are the people who are there loading hogs at 3am for processing and can explain why happy pigs are so important just before they are harvested. They are the experts on the phone, constantly trying to find us a good deal with organic produce, and who can tell us "Hey, that peach, it's not so organic and here's why." Sometimes, they are the people who give us the answers to questions we never knew to ask. For them, transparency in growing practices is the rule, not the exception.

So, here I am. And who am I, you might ask? No one in particular, really. I was a customer of Clark's Organic Market for over a year before Lucinda "Went Farm." Like you, I'm here because I support Lucinda and her purpose, as well as enjoy the food she once distributed, and now grows. I thought it would be interesting to bring a consumer perspective, and admittedly, have my vicarious yearnings for my own farm (currently not a practical endeavor) addressed through real news and real experiences from the Clark Farm.

Here's to Autumn weather and real food! No fake tomatoes allowed!
Jennifer Basuel