I’ve been a vegetarian for as long as I’ve been eating, which is to say, forever.  I’ve been conscious of being a vegetarian since I was in grammar school, which is to say, more years than I’d like to admit.  I can’t claim any moral higher ground, though; I am not sure why I didn’t eat meat when I was young.  It’s a bit of a mystery to us all.

Early on, I somehow developed a freakish ability to detect animal protein in even the densest bowl of apple sauce.  I was not havin’ it.  I think my parents realized I was a vegetarian at the exact moment that they realized that I could (and would) repeat just about everything I heard.  Including swear words.

Picture a seemingly angelic two-year old, perched in a high chair in the dining room while visiting her grandparents, poring over her bowl of apple sauce.  And now picture her pulling a tiny bite of chicken from her mouth, yelping “Oh, sh-t!” and tossing it directly onto the Oriental rug below her.  Terrifying on several levels.  I should probably be mortified by this behavior, but I don’t think I am obligated to take responsibility for anything I did before the age of seven.  So instead, I find this both amazing and hilarious.

I continued to refuse meat, hidden or not, baffling many of my dining companions to this day.  My parents were quick to not force the issue; in fact, my mother is on the fast track to sainthood, having prepared separate meals for me and—to this day—always makes sure there is something that I can (and will) eat at holidays and so on. 

By middle school I identified more consciously with the “vegetarian” label.  I think I needed a reason to justify not eating meat, something that sounded more convicted than, “It totally grosses me out.”  I read about slaughterhouses and meat processing plants, and somehow came by a sticker that featured a crazy eyed, knife-wielding Ronald McDonald pronouncing, “Your unhappy meal is ready.”  I stuck it on the inside cover of my journal, feeling that it was compelling, but not something to be shared with the general populace.  Sure, I felt horribly for the animals that were mistreated and sacrificed all for a measly Junior Whopper, but I can’t honestly say that my choice to be a vegetarian is or was motivated by a love for animals.  I just didn’t and don’t want to eat meat.  Or fish.  Or poultry.  And I am thankful that I don’t really need to justify that choice.

For me, food is both extremely personal and communal.  In a world where cooking shows are cropping up on each network, bloggers share every morsel of their daily intake, and food and beverage companies dominate all forms of advertising, it seems nearly impossible to not be influenced by what everyone else is eating.  There are certainly times when I think, I should be eating more of this.  Or less of that.  Or, maybe I should just try a little bit. 

Ultimately, though, I know what my body wants and needs.  And I know how these wants and needs make me feel.  This is not something that can be defined by anyone other than me.  I try to eat as compassionately as I can—this is how I feel my best.  It’s important to me to know where my food comes from, and—if I am not cooking myself—how it is prepared.  I try to show compassion by not passing judgment on what or how others eat.  This is where the communal aspect of eating comes into play.

One of the most fulfilling, thoughtful, creative ways I can show that I love someone is by cooking for them.  My two-year-old cursing self, or my twelve-year-old sticker collecting self wouldn’t believe this, but I actually truly enjoy preparing lobster for my boyfriend, or grilled chicken for my sister, or (if the smell doesn’t kill me) boiled chicken for my French bulldog.    Yes, it’s a challenge.  And yes, I feel a bit conflicted while doing this.  But with a little research and time, it is not difficult to find food that comes from animals who were well cared for, or vegetables that are grown locally and organically.  Though I’ll probably never eat these lobsters or chickens myself, I am reminded of the countless meals my mother prepared for me before sitting down to eat her own, entirely different meal with the rest of our family. 

In my world of mostly meat-eaters, I am a vegetarian.  More importantly, I am person who loves to cook as much as I love to eat, which is trumped only by how much I love the people (and puppies) I am lucky enough to cook for and eat with.  And I promise, I don’t swear (anymore).  Wait, what’s this hidden in my apple sauce?!  Oh shh….. ; )

Happy meals to you all,

Elizabeth

Like what you’ve read here? (I did!) Want more? (I do!) You can check out Elizabeth’s blog On Tap For Today and follow her on twitter too!

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