I miss meat so much that I ache. It’s a visceral reaction, as they say, a longing I feel in my belly and my bones. I feel the need like I do for a shower on a weekend of parties, two days of dancing in smoky rooms and spilling beer on my jeans. I have had dreams about it, about slicing into a buttery filet, of a quarter pound of ground beef spitting on a dirty drive thru grill. I miss it much more than my 20s, much less than kisses under street lamps or a hand on my knee. I miss it infinitely more than chicken.
People talk about meat more than you’d think. Coworkers eat it at lunch, buns of steamy meatballs made by a kerchiefed grandmother and the simplest of ham sandwiches crying out for a suitor. Restaurant menus tease. Pork pulled from a part of the pig I’d rather not imagine, but when I do, it’s a part that feels like a down comforter slathered in sauce, like pig cotton candy. Beef Wellington, equal parts warm pastry and love your family never gave you. Flank steak, properly soaked and chilled, upstaging summer greens like Jackie O. did the commoners. Meat is a delight, friends, an indulgence unparalleled.
I’m slowly giving in. I feel as if I’m caving, a whore unable to tolerate a day wage. I’ve done my due diligence, researched those spots that might afford the predestined their last rites, a final meal of choice? At the very least assurance that they’ll serve a greater purpose than posting on Facebook and logging hours in a well-decorated cubicle. I’m eating meat here and there — nothing mass produced, of course — and I’m savoring this that is ridiculously most savory.
And I’m trying to avoid the squeals inside me that tell me my body is doing something wrong, yet unapologetically and downright beautifully right.
17 Comments
Girl, Polyface has delivery to the district. I get it. I didn’t cook for 9 months after Food Inc. But how can you deny a well-loved cow? Come on (whispers slowly and points to a burger).
Beef is beautiful! Why are you denying yourself meat?!
Beef. It’s what’s for dinner.
Yeah, I went there.
My daughters tried to get me to watch a chicken and beef processing plant video. I told them to shove it. I don’t need to know what goes on between green pastures and free ranges (yes that’s what I tell myself) to my dinner plate. I’m just thankful I don’t have to run them down, stick them with my spear and roast them whole over an open fire.
Maybe if you only get local and grass fed it may make you feel better about it? I for one couldn’t give up the juicy goodness of a medium steak, but I respect you for sticking to it if that is truly what you want to do!
This is a something I’ve struggled with too. I have no answer. I’m having filet for dinner and pretending I have no idea where it comes from.
I think I missed the post about why you aren’t eating meat. I was a vegetarian (really a pescaterian) for years until bacon brought me back. Delicious bacon.
I’m very much a “Where’s the beef?” girl, so I wish that I could relate to this.
I’m lying. I’m happy that I can’t relate to this.
If you ever change your mind, I’ll be the first one in line to buy you a fancy steak dinner.
Well, we’ve already talked about this multiple times, and you know I support your internal struggle. Just know that there’s always an open spot on my grill for you.
have you tried fake meat? like, morningstar farms makes good “beef crumbles” and chik-en patties, and sausage links and bacon strips etc…and even buffalo chicken fingers!
i dont eat much meat myself. but sometimes you just CRAVE it.
Kris,
This link is to my sister-in-law’s website and specifically to a list of real food resources – most especially in the DC area (she herself lives in Takoma Park). Hopefully you’ll find it useful. She was a vegetarian herself once too.
http://simplybeingwell.com/real-food-resources/
“pig cotton candy”
Ha!
MEAT IS SO GOOD!
I feel the same way. But when I think of free range chickens, doing nothing, not having jobs, I want to eat them.
Beef. It’s what’s for dinner.
Pit cotton candy… and Beef Wellington being the love your family never gave you… I nominate you for poet laureate.
Seriously.
damn you..
now im hungry….;-)
xoxo
I miss you! I echo Jane’s suggestion of Monica’s Simply Being Well blog. My sister is a bodyworker and says that she sees a huge difference in muscle tissue based on what people eat, but I can tell you more about that in person when we finally get together for a cocktail…
Chocolate is the answer (always) – dark chocolate with bacon (only little bits, but enough to meet a NEED – Vosges