drink no liquor, and they eat but a very little meat...

I'm not the vegetarian type. Don't get me wrong. I love vegetables--all kinds, all of the time--cooked, raw, steamed, mixed into a medley of sorts; it doesn't matter, I love it all. However, I have also been a fan of meat and have pretty much had the mindset that a meal wasn't complete without some source of "hearty" protein (lentils and legumes just didn't cut it). And yet, I have also been a bit squeamish around the stuff. If I start to think about where the meat came from and how the poor animals died, I can't really stomach the stuff. I've been like this my whole life and have tinkered with the idea of giving it up completely, but I like it just enough to not be able to banish it from my kitchen/table forever. In addition to my fair weather affair with meat, I also have some pretty strict rules concerning the consumption of animal flesh that make it hard for me to continue with this meaty relationship:

1) I don't want to see it in its whole form--dead or alive--ever.

2) I will not eat meat/poultry outside of the following: chicken, pork, been, turkey. Anything other living creature is safe and will never end up on my table.

3) Despite my love to cook, I don't like to touch meat and will go to great lengths to keep it that way.

4) WELL DONE. Must be completely well done. Burnt offerings are better than even the slightest hint of pink.

5) No chunks of fat. I don't care if it adds flavor.

But recently, despite my previous addiction-like need for the stuff, I have been thinking twice more often than I would like. And I wonder, "Do I want to become vegetarian?" The catalyst for this drastic thinking came the other night when I went to dinner with a friend. She was craving lobster. How anyone can crave that is beyond me, but she was. We walked into the restaurant and there they were, front and center...little lobsters crawling over each other not knowing that soon one of their buddies would come up missing. Already I was starting to feel queasy.

We were promptly seated and were handed gargantuan menus. This was a Spanish/Chinese place and so there were basically two complete menus to choose from. I choose lemon chicken, my friend the lobster. A few minutes later we were deep in conversation when the waiter appeared out of nowhere with a large bowl and a squirming lobster. He shoved it in our faces, at least it seemed as if he did, for my friend's nod of approval. I was completely caught of guard and the whole scene reminded me of when I was little. Bratty boys teasing girls with live rodents or reptiles. Ewww. Even thinking about it now makes me shiver. As the waiter walked away, I couldn't help but think of the poor animal and its pending fate.

Eventually our waiter came back with our food. Mine was simple enough, but hers came with cracking and scooping utensils, extra napkins and a sizzling platter. The lobster was plated atop a mound of crackling garlic so the smell was overwhelming. And then it began--the cracking, the twisting, the digging, the gutting, the sucking, the chomping, the chewing, the smacking. Somehow it didn't look as graceful as it did in the movies and all I could think about is how she was ripping this animal apart to feed on its flesh.

I spent the entire evening looking at my food or her forehead so that I wouldn't have to see the massacre before me. I tried my best to eat my meal, but found that the rice and the lemon wedges were my favorite part. I finished well before she and silently prayed that she would get full or eat faster. Neither happened and so I sat there, chatting, avoiding eye contact with the lobster head (minus the brain and flesh), and sipping my Coke until she was through.

Anyway, it has been about two weeks now, and I think that I may have had meat twice. The thing is, I think that I am OK with that. I'm excited to look for alternate sources of protein and excited to create new medleys of vegetable dishes. I don't know how long this will last...perhaps only the summer...but we shall see.