My friend S, who’s been veggie for a while, sent me an encouraging note saying that being veggie and going meatless shouldn’t be a problem–even for a foodie. Whew. I hope she’s right! I confess that I’m a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. I love and respect animals, but let’s face it: they look good on the dining table. Crispy pork loins, stuffed turkey, a whole leg of lamb, roasted and served with herbed potatoes and asparagus…oooh!
For someone like me who used to be a butter ball as a kid and whose hubby once joked that if I had a superpower, it would be to eat my way through things, deciding to suddenly limit my options IS scary. But the alternative–knowing that what I’m about to chew on likely suffered for my pleasure–is scarier. In the article that pushed us over the brink, David Foster Wallace asks: Why is a primitive, inarticulate form of suffering less urgent or uncomfortable for the person who’s helping to inflict it by paying for the food it results in? And my answer is, it shouldn’t be. Should it?
I used to eat for the love of eating. Now it will be for the love of what I’m not eating. But maybe S is right. Maybe there’s no conflict there–just love.
