Why I don’t want to eat meat anymore

1. Raw meat is slick and slippery to touch. This is more why I don’t want to cook it, as opposed to why I don’t want to eat it. But it is off-putting to eat, too.
2. I like animals. So much so, that I am hesitant to eat them.
3. I tend to feel better when I don’t eat meat - I never get stomach aches or that heavy “I can’t believe I ate all that what the heck was I thinking” feeling, far more likely to be (spoiler alert: don’t read further if you are squeamish or don’t want to know how this ends) uncomfortably irregular.
4. Zero guilt.
5. Minimal concern about the safety of what is going in my mouth (although this concern was a lot more minimal before the spinach E. coli problem).

Back story: When I was a kid, my mother cooked meat. As I got older and she got wiser in the ways of nutrition, meat became scarcer. Not that much, but we did have a meal or two a week that was meatless (as in something safe and predictable, however, such as vegetable lasagna - that woman never made the acquaintance of anything as radical as a tofu).

When I moved out, I became a vegetarian. Not, mind you, for ethical or moral reasons. But because my very funky flat had a very funky kitchen. It was built into a closet. It had a mini-fridge. Two burners. A sink. But, alas, no oven. That, coupled with the fact that I had utterly no idea how to cook, gave me my first push down the vegetarian highway.

Vegetarian, to me, meant no meat, as opposed to more nutrition. So I lived on cheese and bread and yogurt and eggs. Some fruit. Rare veg.

That lasted a year. And did I ever get sick of that restricted diet.

So I learned how to cook and bake. Got a cookbook and learned the basics. Roast chicken. Whole wheat bread from scratch. Salads. Casseroles. Cake from a mix (bread I did from scratch, but cake was from a mix, go figure). And so on.

It was fun. And interesting.

I expanded my repertoire. Souffles. Boeuf Bourguignon. (But I was still making cake from a mix. Who can out bake Betty Crocker?).

Then I started reading about nutrition. And went back to being a vegetarian. But this time, with lecithin and tofu and all sorts of health food store goodies.

And that worked nicely. Until I met, moved in with, and married a meat-and-potatoes-guy.

Buh bye vegetarian. Hello meat.

Dover sole. Pub pies. Fish and chips. Lemon chicken. Stew. And so on. But I always slipped vegetarian goodies - soy milk and the like - into the mix when I could. And introduced the odd meatless dinner. And nearly overnight (five years later) we are now almost vegetarians.

So meat is more of an occasional indulgence, than an every day staple. And, more and more, it is less something that is cooked at home and more something that we get at a restaurant.

And, for me at least, there are some types of meat that are always - both in and out of the home - off the menu. Such as veal. And lamb. And rabbit. So the types of meat I will eat are shrinking as well as the frequency. This is all to the good.

Dinner two nights ago was cauliflower in a cheese sauce and homemade (finally!) cake. Dinner last night was wonton soup we got at the Chinese restaurant around the corner because I felt too lousy to cook and lousy enough that only soup would do. Tonight, my husband is making his famous tuna steaks. I’ll serve it with couscous and salad. Tomorrow, I'm thinking another vegetarian pizza to use up the rest of the pesto sauce.

And so we go, in our almost vegetarian way.