I recently went vegetarian. Not because I want to be vegetarian- all I can think of are those people who ask for a new dish at a restaurant if they find out the spatula used for the potatoes touched the meat- but because 1. I like animals and it upsets me how weâve commoditized them, like the forks and knives we use to eat them, for our own pleasure, and 2. literally who the hell knows what the process is in this country in converting a living cow into the final hamburger paddy we consume. I just donât trust whatâs happening behind the scenes in that process, and in my mind, I would rather worry about the lentils Iâm eating having fallen on the floor than why, when I bit down on the hamburger paddy, it crunched.
But donât get me wrong-- I mean I loved meat. Itâs delicious, especially in the form of meatballs or chicken wings-- itâs just I have this hang-up that wonât allow me to order these foods anymore because recently my heart thawed for animals in light of discovering I despite the human race.Â
But like anything, when youâre trying to quit, it seems omnipresent in all that you do.
Like, the other day at lunch, I ordered a salad which tasted like I was forking up garden soil, while and the girl next to me got a submarine sandwich- and not just any sub- one of those subs that has every type of meat on it imaginable-mortadella, soppressata and everything else that rhymes- dripping in olive oil, and tried (with difficulty) to fit the sandwich in her mouth with each bite.. It was like a TV commercial. And there I was, scooping up piles of quinoa on my fork hoping each bite be more dressing-soaked than the one before, so it wouldnât taste like earth-medicine.Â
Or sometimes you fuck up, not even because you want to. The other night at dinner I ordered a vegetarian pasta, and my friend, Jess, asks, âHey, you want to try mine? Itâs delicious!â
âSure, whatâd you get?â I asked, as I took the plate from her hand she passed across the table.Â
âThe ravioli. Itâs soo good.â
And as I flicked one of the wavy-edged dumplings from my fork into my mouth and bit down, the flavor of meat filled my mouth, and I suddenly realized I was suddenly chewing short rib.. of which I havenât had the likes since October of last year.Â
And then, of course, when something like that happens, youâre shocked, right, but canât make a scene, so I was like, âMm-mmm.â Suddenly making the connection, âThat. is.. delic-ious.â Fuck me and the horse I rode in on; I just ruined my streak and ate a cow.
And then, of course, there are the times you just make people outright feel bad. Today, my boyfriend was like, âHey, I defrosted these two cornish hens for us for us tonight..â
[First of all, what the fuck is a âcornish henâ? Does it have corn stuffed inside of it like a pinata? Is it from a place called âCornâ such that it is Corn-ish?
What is that word and why is it there as a descriptor? Also, letâs call a spade a spade, itâs not the 18th Century, itâs chicken.
âTom.. I .. you know that I..â
He just stared at me from the couch.
[Also, letâs get something straight. If I am going to cheat on my veg diet for something, itâs going to be a fat $70 steak or Bon Chon chicken wings or Korean bulgogi or something. Iâm not going to ruin my streak for cornish hen. Can you imagine?  âWhy yes I am vegetarian but my boyfriend was cooking a luscious cornish hen last night and I just couldnât resist myself.â Hard no.]
âMaybe you can make it..â I tried.. âfor yourself..?âÂ
âYou know what?â He threw down the remote. âIâm just not cooking for you anymore, you are such a pain in the ass.â
âNo.. wait but.. I want you to.. I-â
âNo-- I defrosted these and I need to cook these tonight or theyâll go to waste.âÂ
Again I just stared back. I am not going to eat some bony-ass mini-chicken to appease someone, especially if itâs on the verge of going bad.
âIâll eat anything else.. Like.. that pasta dish! I love that one.. Can you make that this week? The one with the peas..!â
âJustin, that has ham in it.â
âAhh, well.. Can you just make half..? And then put my portion to the side ..And then add the-â
âIâm not doing that.â
âIâll just eat cereal. Itâs fine.â
Which is what itâs come down to essentially because no one wants to deal with me because apparently I am the most demanding piece of self-righteous garbage on the earth.Â
So itâs been touch and go. Mostly go (as in âjump off a bridgeâ). Itâs hard to just function with people at a table without being the most annoying person in the room or the subject of intense interrogation. Are you trying to be skinny or do you have a moral issue? Why must you dissent?Â
But the worst part is being stuck in a situation with someone who is just wildly opposed to your ideology: a carnivore.
Which is why it was exceptionally awkward last week when I walked into a meeting to which I was summoned, and I sat down across the table from a man who started talking about a project he needed help marketing: a slaughterhouse.
This is not happening. I thought as I smiled at him from across the table. This is not happening. Over and over.Â
âYea.. and so you know.â He began. âItâs really nice and industrial on the outside and you open the door and the kill room is as clean as can be.â He remarked. âNo blood or anything.. Itâs wild.â
Can you imaging having to take notes on that?Â
::typing::Â Industrial slaughterhouse. Kill room very clean.
I couldnât believe it.Â
âYou know.. they have a unique model where none of the animals hang on the racks for very long so the bacteria canât fester.. They clean it out real fast so the turn is crazy fast.â
:: animals quickly rotated from hang racks extra quickly for human profit ::Â [delete, delete]Â :: rotated for efficiency ::
âThe mom is actually really involved in the business,â He spoke jovially about the family. âShe does a lotta things.. She takes care of the books but also suprervises the kill floor.âÂ
:: Mother --> accountant, angel of death:: [delete, delete] :: manages kill floor ::
Like, these are going to be the notes I save in the file on the corporate shared drive; so I hope thatâs cool.Â
âAnd the meat.â He continued emphatically. âItâs so good, itâs the leanest meat youâll ever see, no fat..because of the way he cuts directly out of the back and on a diagonal, he gets it just right-â
Do you want to just slaughter the cow in front of me and demonstrate for me what youâre saying? Jesus Christ. Why donât you show us the saw?
::Â Hacks directly into animalâs most sensitive area, probably very slow,painful death. best steak youâll ever have::
âAnd with the pigs..? They only do sausage..â He added. âYou know.. because in the hotdogs you get the heart and the tongue and..â
âOohhh-â I blurted out, looking at my watch suddenly (which stopped a month ago), like I had no idea I was late for the conflicting imaginary meeting Iâd made up, and let myself out.
:: Only pig sausage b/c people who eat hotdogs are animal garbage disposals::Â Â
Double click âSave.â Â
Perfect notes. I deserve a promotion.Â
Anyway, so itâs been quite a ride thus far. Every day is another challenge.. whether because you find out that they surprised you with a vegetable soup made with chicken stock, or the salad you ordered comes sprinkled with some candied bacon that wasnât mentioned on the menu description.Â
Itâs fine. A fun journey for sure. And one that I think only gets better when you can go back later and, well, review the notes.Â
Please follow, share, like, or email.. <3Â
INSTAGRAM: Justinthecity_