The Road to Vegetarianism

I grew up in a meat-eating family.  At least twice a day, usually the midday and evening meals (dinner and supper), we ate pork, beef, or chicken, the beef and pork grown on Dad’s farm and the chickens that Grandma raised in our back yard in town. (The farmhouse had burned to the ground, so we bought a house in the village, a half mile from the farm.)

Dad’s hogs had cozy little houses for raising their litters, plenty of dried corn from the corn bin, and a pond with ample mud for wallowing. They lived in hog heaven until the day they died. Dad’s cattle lived in a lush pasture with another pond, good not only for drinking but also for standing in on hot days. Dad’s hogs and cattle had good lives until he loaded one into his truck and took it to Oak Grove to be butchered.

The butcher cut the meat into roasts, chops and other forms, sealed them up in heavy white freezer paper, and stamped then package “Hamburger” or “Pork Chops.” The butchery had a large walk-in freezer room where people could rent freezer space. That’s where our meat was stored.

Once a week or so, Dad drove three miles to Oak Grove to get a supply of meat. Many hot summer days I went along. The temperature difference between the inside of Dad’s truck and the big freezer room was staggering.  We could see our breath. Immediately I was shivering. Dad wore leather gloves when he pulled out the freezer drawer and rummaged for the cuts Mother had requested.

Grandma, who was in charge of chickens, also was in charge of dispatching them. When fried chicken was on the menu, Grandma went outside about an hour before the meal, grabbed a chicken by its head, and swung the bird in a circle. The head popped off, leaving the headless body running around until it collapsed. Quickly Grandma had the carcass de-feathered, gutted, cleaned, cut into pieces, floured, and dropped into a skillet bubbling with hot lard.

These images of how meat animals are raised persisted in my mind for many years, but when Dennis and I began making treks to Colorado through western Kansas, I was shocked to see (and smell) the huge feedlots of cattle living in their own filth, eating feed unsuitable for their ruminant stomachs. That’s when I began to back away from eating beef, but I still had pork and chicken and sometimes fish.

Since then, I’ve learned that most hogs are raised in boxes scarcely larger than their bodies. So are many laying hens. These creatures can’t even walk around. Fish are farmed and fed disgusting things.

I’ve now backed away from mass-produced meat altogether. If we eat beef it is grass fed. If we eat pork or chicken, it was humanely raised. If we eat fish it was wild-caught.  This is hard on the pocketbook. If our old dietary habits were to persist, we would go broke.

One approach to changing dietary habits is to use small amounts of meat to flavor another dish, such as navy beans cooked with a ham hock. I’ve gone that route, but recently I’ve been drawn to making meatless meals, thanks to Laurie, who has been a vegetarian for many years. Laurie serves up delicious meatless meals time and again, meals that provide tastes and textures that delight the palate. Vegetarian recipes had always seemed a bit weird to me, but Laurie introduced me to cookbooks that completely changed my perception of vegetarian food.

Tonight our evening meal will be meatless for the fourth time in as many days. I’m venturing onto the road toward vegetarianism.

Copyright 2015 by Shirley Domer