Tag Archives: Food

Vegexperiment: Day 13

Day 13 of a 30 day vegetarian (accurately, pescatarian) November, and…..screw this. Just kidding.

But I’m sad to report there’s been some serious dissension in the ranks. The eldest child (who kicked off this undertaking by announcing it on facebook) and the eldest, paternal member of the household (who rallied the family to join her in support) have been at odds. Both have confessed to meat cravings, yet both harbor differing opinions on whether or not we should continue on in our noble quest.

To my daughter, my husband said, “You need to follow through on your commitments.” And my daughter countered with, “But I’m 11. I latch onto ideals and speak passionately on all sorts of topics I don’t yet fully understand. I also haven’t the benefit of much life experience; the kind that might aid me with the follow through on such a major lifestyle change. Because, again, I’m 11.” She didn’t say that, of course (because – all together now – she’s 11), instead she sulks in pouty silence and avoids his gaze, but that’s the gist of it.

Her heart still breaks at the idea of suffering animals, but her stomach revolts at the sight of beans and tofu. She loathes them, and many other foods, with the fierce passion that only picky children can irrationally muster. My God, I presented a dish this week that was heavy on quinoa (light, tart, savory, highly recommended) and, by her reaction, you’d have thought I’d just shot her cat. No. Worse. It was like I’d taken her iPhone away. She was positively despondent. And the little one, who refused meat beforehand, also refuses all this substitute bullshit. Making my job so much more not at all any fucking easier. YAY!

Full of Beans

Still, the mister is insisting we persevere (see: stickler). Not so much for personal reasons, but as a lesson to the eldest about sticking to one’s guns, finishing what one starts, and all that character-building jazz. Though I understand and sympathize with his position, our daughter’s pre-existing reluctance to ingest about 8,000 varieties of food means she’s not ready to limit her diet further. She needs to grow past her childhood pickiness and expand her palate before she can truly commit to a meatless way of life. And she definitely needs to be down with the tofurkey on Thanksgiving – which, as of now, she is most assuredly NOT.

And then there’s me, the once self-proclaimed connoisseur of the burger; I’m the only one in the house who enjoys meat yet hasn’t had any longing for it. And that’s a big deal. Quick story…

Once upon a couple years ago, my husband, my children and I joined my ex-husband, his wife, and their small daughter for dinner. It was the first time my husband and my ex-husband had ever met, and the tension was not high but…not exactly relaxed, either. Many details of that meal went swimmingly (another story for another time), but most memorably, my husband and ex-husband’s unexpected bonding moment. I was reviewing the menu and maybe said something about ordering a burger, because my ex piped up, “Yup! Take Niki to a nice restaurant and watch her order a cheeseburger.” And my husband chimed in, “Oh, I know! The Queen of Cheeseburgers!” And they laughed together, like best buddies. Ha. Ha. Ha. (Batsards)

It was then that I realized how your ex(es) and present significant other should NEVER be allowed to convene! It won’t play out the way you think it should. Perhaps you imagine it would go something like, “Ah yes. Indeed we both agree she (or he) is amazing, in countless ways, and made a thoroughly positive, unforgettable impact on our lives. A saint and a goddess (or god), really. How lucky we are to know her (or him).” But in reality it’s more like, “Oh I KNOW! And how she (he) always does this one thing? What a dummy. And, oh wow, she (or he) STILL does THAT other thing? Holy crazeballs!”

And I didn’t even order a stupid burger during that meal. (Bro-moment havin’ bastards).

Yet the anecdote illustrates a point: anyone who knew me before 2008 would assert me to be the “Queen of Cheeseburgers.” I really do love them. And for me to not crave that flesh any longer, it says something. It says I can change. Rather, that I’m ready to. But my daughter, I think she jumped aboard an emotional bandwagon that her taste buds aren’t yet tall enough to ride. You know, she’s always disliked dairy, even cheese (insanity!), so maybe she’ll make an excellent vegan someday. And possibly, in a year or two, she’ll judge the portions on her plate not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their tastiness.

But not today.

At any rate, I’ll be stocking the cupboards this weekend and she’s asked, “Let’s just not have as MUCH meat.” Already done. And this experiment paved the way. Take the fajitas we regularly make for dinner, substituting tofu for steak went over splendidly and everyone agreed to pass on meaty fajitas in the future. A small success. And as I learn more new, appetizing vegetarian recipes that might please my children, we’ll keep taking our baby steps toward discovering a brand new way to eat.

But if you happen to see me out at burger joint (saucy juices running down my chin, something akin to celestial ecstasy in the whites of my rolled back eyeballs)……don’t judge.


Veggie Tales

In our alcove of Arizona, school children participate in an annual event called Cowboy Poetry. My first born is on her 7th year of this and she hates it. She’s an advanced reader, and not an inept writer (you can both infer the meaning and engage in the feeling behind her usually funny words) but she doesn’t come by vocabulary, spelling and grammatical structure naturally (it’s genetic), and finds it all to be a chore. She tested into honors science and honors math. Enough said, right? Does the world need another female english major or another female engineer? In any case, she’s just not into cowboy culture.

But she was inspired this year, when her literature teacher instructed students to brainstorm and extrapolate on words that might form into poetic verse. The teacher said, “And what comes to mind when you think of pigs? Bacon. Dinner. Food.” And my daughter blurted out, “Or they could live.”


No one said a word. She told me all heads had turned her way, and the teacher looked at her as though she’d just ripped off her adorable eleven year old mask to reveal the freaky, hippy, PETA activist beneath. Her teacher ignored the comment and moved awkwardly on, while her best friend shot her a look that asked, “Are you insane?!” Later, that same friend put it to her, “WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?” My baby replied, “Because it’s true.”

And it’s our fault. We’re terrible parents. We taught her to think critically.


She endeavored to explain that, from her point of view, it doesn’t make sense how we only eat some animals and keep others as pets. And the thought of eating those pets (beloved cats, dogs and, God forbid, horses) horrifies and disgusts people. Yet in Korea they’re serving puppy stew. And India thinks us vile for devouring the scared cow (with exception). Pondering this, logically, critically, it’s a little wacky. But that point was lost on her peers.

Again, it’s all the fault of our parenting. My husband is a compulsive debater. He’s not a jerk, he’s actually very light-hearted and fun, but he’s a stickler when it comes to accuracy and validity. It’s just the way he’s wired: “Just the facts, ma’am.” If you state something, particularly with passion, you’d better be able to come irrefutably correct (or that facebook thread will NEVER END). Meanwhile, I long ago chose to be honest with my girls about the questions they pose, in an age-appropriate manner. That includes the truth, as I understand it, about what we eat. And other than laying down some basic expectations (I insist they be honest, compassionate and respectful; towards others and themselves) I don’t demand they think, feel and operate the way I do. I share my opinion on topics such as politics and religion, and ask them to make their own decisions (and yeah, I’m aware kids are developmentally incapable of making informed decisions, hence the whole needing adults to survive thing, I’m merely laying a foundation). The result being, my kids think.

Evidenced by the incident last week, when my family sat down for dinner and the four year old refused to eat turkey bacon – the same way she refuses burgers, lunch meat, diced chicken in anything, so on. It sparked a discussion. Up until that night she hadn’t been taking a moral stance, she’s just picky. Yet, on that particular night she asked where the bacon had come from. I told the truth: traditional bacon from pigs, turkey bacon from turkeys. Her eyes grew large and she shouted, “I don’t want to eat animals! I LIKE ANIMALS!”

Now, I’ll make my kids eat broccoli. I will demand they finish their green beans. I won’t force them to eat meat. “You will not get up from this table until you have swallowed every last bite of the tortured dead cow that was fed another tortured, diseased, chemical-laden cow. And, for godsakes, sit up straight!” Inhumanity aside, it’s common knowledge the meat industry is churning out a product that isn’t healthy or safe. I won’t force my children not to eat it, either (there are grass-fed beef options, etc.). It’s their choice. Giving my girls the freedom to make some of their own choices gives them the invaluable opportunity to think about WHY they’re making those choices. Or so I hope.

And it was the little one’s dinnertime declaration that got big sister thinking. She’d always been on the vegetarian fence. She’d never been comfortable with the slaughter of animals, but she also relishes in the yum of a juicy burger. And, unfortunately, she thinks most vegetables are gross – though she’d happily subsist on carbs alone (wouldn’t we all). Really, it’s easier to just not think about it. It’s easier to be like everybody else. But later that night, without warning, she posted the following on her facebook page:

“So I have decided to try to be a vegetarian. It’s just not right to have these poor animals suffer, even my little sister said she doesn’t want animal meat anymore. I am going to try it for 30 days, see if I can do it, see if I am willing. This is just my opinion on it, you don’t have to agree.”

NOM NOM RAWR RAWR - By Pistachio

NOM NOM RAWR RAWR – By Pistachio

And even though she made that announcement before checking in with the lady who prepares her meals, I told her the family was not just behind her, we were on the meat-free board with her. It was my mister’s suggestion. We’ve been making changes in our diet for years; cutting out pork, cutting back on red meat. Tofu vegetable stir fry and Morning Star products had been in regular meal rotation for some time. We also have many a vegetarian and vegan friend among our ranks. Most influentially, our good friend and health coach at From Here to Whole (<—–click, go, see, be dazzled by her charm) who'd introduced us to fabulous resturaunt options (Lovin’ Spoonfuls, so good) – proving that deliciousness comes in all sorts of meatless packages. Consequently, my kiddo’s decision wasn’t sudden, and our following suit seemed only natural.

The next step was to prepare her for the backlash. Seems the minute someone affirms they are a new vegetarian, someone else is moved to defend meat eating. As if, “I’m a vegetarian” translates to “I’m better than you” or, “Meat tastes terrible” or, “I’m openly condemning your barbaric, terrible tastin’, murder-lovin’ artery-hardened ways….because I’m better than you.” There are the holier-than-thou types, and many of the militant “meat is murder” ilk, but not nearly enough to warrant the immediate “You know you want you some meat, mmmm, meat-diggity-meat-meat-baby-back-meat!” reaction. People who regard vegetarians as weird and/or silly all appear a little annoyed by it, too. And why is that? What’s so threatening about someone declining to chow down on a sausagebaconlambchopkchickenfriedsteakmcmuffin? Being irritated by something that hurts no one, and something no one is forcing you to partake in, maybe THAT is silly and weird.

Just ten years ago my own mindset towards a meatless existence was no friendlier. I never rolled my eyes at the notion, but it went against the grain of my cynical worldview. And that view was: this isn’t a fluffy, kind, cruelty-free planet. It’s dog-eat-dog, man-eat-beast, and man-destroy-man. It’s hard, and it’s cold, and suffering abounds. And while that sucks, it’s also the inevitable way the game is played, here in the insane asylum of the universe – otherwise know as Earth. Thankfully, my perspective has since expanded, and softened.

Avocado, you complete me.

Avocado, you complete me.

If charged with the task of having to kill my own food, I might starve to death. Then again, I might consume the stiff, frozen remains of my dead best friend – if left stranded, in dire hunger, atop some snowy mountain (it’s been known to happen). But, at present, I don’t see where my animal-based meals come from, so I’m not forced to think about them. I also don’t NEED to eat them. I don’t live in a society that must hunt beasts to avoid starvation. I live in a society with a Trader Joes. And the glory of avocados in abundance!

And therein lies the lengthy veggie tale (having nothing to do with a talking cucumber who tells Bible stories, sorry) of how our family came to be on day eight of a meat-free experiment. We’re all still alive, obviously, and well. As yet, no one has had the shakes, or sold their blood for a little hit of protein. But there’s been seafood in the mix. Planning a month’s worth of meals, without knowing what I was doing, I decided to start us slow. Every third or fourth meal has incorporated fish. When I mentioned to big sis that we were technically Pescetarians, she said, “Pescah-whaaaaaaaah? Yeah. I’m not going to say that.” To each their own.

As we move forward, in support of her 30 day goal and possibly beyond, I hope she remains compassionate and objective with her naysayers- but doesn’t take any shit, either. A few days ago she was invited to a birthday party. The birthday girl proclaimed everyone must wear neon, and joked, “If you’re not wearing neon you will get a smack in the face and no fried chicken!” My baby countered, “Yeah, okay. I’m a vegetarian.” Her friend replied, “Then….you’ll get a smack in the face and NO VEGGIES!” Hah! Like my daughter wants veggies! But hooray for my baby standing her newly discovered ground. And should she eventually revert back to her burger worship, I hope she doesn’t beat herself up. I know plenty of former vegetarians, too.

On a final, light, maniacal note: I presented the little one with a slice of cheese pizza on night ONE of this undertaking. Little brow furrowed, she asked, “Where’s the good stuff?” What good stuff? Did she mean pepperoni? Yes. “Well, that’s an animal, and you don’t want to eat animals anymore, remember?”
“OH!” A look of relief came over her and, happy to clear up the confusion, she said, “No. I want to eat THAT animal. That animal is delicious!!!”

Little stinker.


While ringing up my multitude of groceries, my checker looked stressed over the 75 year old bagger who was taking his arthritic time packing up my goods. I decided to make light of my weighty purchase with small talk, and I said, “And to think, all this will be gone in two weeks.”

My checker, whose face remained stern, replied, “Yeah. Kids. I think our lives are going to come to a drastic halt if things keeps going the way they’re going.”


She was in her mid 50s, long 70s hair, pretty, with kind yet sad eyes, and wearing a crystal around her neck – all of which only made her statement more confusing. Was she prophesying some 2012 shit? Was she commenting on American consumerism in general? Was she baked? Was she NOT baked and therefore woke up on the doomy-gloomy side of the bed that day?

“I think our lives are going to come to a drastic halt if things keeps going the way they’re going.”
Are we still talking about my groceries? And if not, shouldn’t we? Because WHAT DO YOU SAY TO THAT?!

What do you say? Me, I said nothing. I tried constructing some polite, chit-chatty responses in my head, but couldn’t get past, “What do you mean?” or “Um…..I suppose?” or “Thank you for being the umpteenth crazy person to walk into my life and fuel a blog story. God Bless, and may the aliens rescue you soon.”

Of course, she may have a point – assuming she was speaking towards the state of world affairs. But is dropping some Nostradamus on me while I’m buying eight tons of paper towels and genetically engineered bananas really the best time?