I think I’m going to start drinking coffee and stop eating meat

A couple of weeks ago, I was making dinner. Yes, I know. You’re riveted. Actually, it was a pretty exciting situation for my family because with life so busy lately, one of the many balls I’ve dropped has been the one called Home Cooked Meals.

So there I was, feeling pretty smug about the fact I’d defrosted a lamb rack and was going to roast it with some potatoes. Frozen peas were my final key ingredient. Julie Masterchef watch your back.

But when I took the rack out of the packaging and went to put it in the baking tray, it was just…so…. tiny. It broke my heart, thinking about the size of those little ribs. And then I got teary. Who cries while they’re trying to make dinner, seriously WHO DOES THAT?

“I can’t do this,” I announced dramatically before fleeing the kitchen. Someone else finished cooking the lamb that night and I ate scrambled eggs.

My career in vegetarianism has been very patchy and characterised by inconsistency and gross hypocrisy. It began as soon as I learned what veal was, around age 12. The thought of eating a little milk-fed calf turned my stomach and killed my appetite. Bye-by schnitzel. This was followed swiftly by lamb and things progressed from there until by 17, I wasn’t eating any red meat at all. I maintained this position for a decade and for many of those years, I didn’t eat chicken either.

One day, after 10 years of no red meant, I had a mouthful of lasagna at a friend’s house and the damn burst. Over the next few months, I scurried back up the food chain until I was once again eating most meat except veal. I’ve never eaten things like duck or rabbit or deer because I relate to those animals in a way I don’t relate to chickens – perhaps because many of them were storybook characters. Bambi anyone?

My approach to meat eating has always been heavy on denial – I need my food not to look like an animal. I don’t like blood. I don’t like shapes that resemble body parts. That’s probably why I can wear leather. Shoes do not look like cows. Neither do sausages.

Lately, little things are pushing me back down the vegetarian path. Like the lamb rack. And the youtube video someone sent me featuring a tiny pet piglet whose owner took it to the beach on a leash. It was so adorable my computer nearly ovulated. At the markets recently, I wandered past one of those baby animal farms. I stood for ages watching the little piglets and calves, transfixed by their cuteness. We had vegetarian pad thai for dinner that night.

If I had more discipline and conviction, I would stop eating meat altogether. It’s a decision I struggle with at most meals. Sometimes the animals win. Sometimes my taste buds do.

Before I continue, I have a favour to ask. Please don’t write to me explaining why I should or shouldn’t eat meat. Please don’t send me links to distressing videos. And wherever you sit on the meat-eating spectrum please do not be defensive. By telling you how I feel about eating meat, I am not implicitly criticizing your position. This is not about telling you what to eat. Or wear. Or think.

All the vegetarians I know are very low key about their choice not to eat meat. None of them ram tofu down your throat in a bid to convert you. But I’ve noticed many meat eaters will take someone else’s decision not to eat meat as a thrown-down gauntlet.

Hunting for chinks in the vegetarian’s ethical armour, the meat-eater’s first question is always “Do you wear leather shoes?” They tend to issue this challenge snidely, confident it’s the killer punch that will deliver an instant moral victory. Many vegetarians or semi-vegetarians or wannabe vegetarians do wear leather shoes. My hand is up. I have several leather jackets and belts. I even have a pair of leather pants which I impulsively bought one day when I was feeling a bit rock and roll. But fur of any kind? Fuggedaboudit.

Everyone has different lines about what they eat and wear. These lines may shift over a lifetime or even a day. For some it’s “anything with a face”. For others it’s “anything with a mother”. Some won’t touch red meat but are cool with everything else. Others eat only seafood. Some people will wear leather but not fur. Some will only wear certain kinds of fur. Others eat everything except rabbits because the idea of chowing down on a bunny is too confronting. Then there are those vegetarians who turn a blind eye to a donor kebab when blind themselves at 3am. Whatever. Someone’s choice about what they’re comfortable eating is a personal one, not to be mocked or disparaged just because your choice is different.

I did have a chuckle the other day when I heard someone say: “If God didn’t intend us to eat animals, he wouldn’t have made them from meat.” Clearly, that’s my problem.

Do you struggle with such thoughts? Is it just me?

UPDATE: by popular demand….here is the piglet I was telling you about….

Kingsford Goes to the Beach – Funny blooper videos are here