Because tofu sucks…
After close to 20 years, I walked away from a
vegetarian lifestyle a few months back.
When I originally stopped eating meat, it was for
health reasons–I just didn’t feel good after I ate
it. Red meat was the first to go. Then foul. Then
fish and seafood. In the years that followed, I
committed myself to being a healthy vegetarian,
whipping up all sorts of great recipes with seitan and
tofu. It worked great for me, and I probably was
pretty healthy for a majority of that time.
As I got older, new demands were placed on my time,
both work and personal. Suddenly, I wasn’t able to
spend an hour in the kitchen preparing smart dinners.
In the increasingly brief amount of free time I’d find
myself with at night, I would default to something
like a grilled cheese sandwich or cheese pizza for
dinner, something that required no effort. My sole
criteria for meals were that they had to be
quick, easy, and meat-free. The results were meals
that were carb- and fat-heavy, not to mention pretty
damn dull after a while.
Necessity forced me to reconsider meat. Instead of a
grilled cheese sandwich, I reasoned, I could grill a
chicken breast in a comparable amount of time, which
would give me more of what my body actually needs.
I dipped my toes back into the carniverous lifestyle
back in August, starting with fish. Chicken soon
followed. Then came hot dogs. Burgers. Steaks. Wet
Italian beef with hot and sweet peppers. Veal. Holy
Christ, it didn’t stop.
I went on a meat bender for a while (and, yes, that is
the gayest thing I’ve ever committed to print), to
make up for lost time. Now that my caveman needs have
levelled out a bit, I’ve settled into a pretty normal
(and less excessive) carniverous routine.
Earlier tonight, I enjoyed the Filet Trio at Wildfire,
three encrusted pieces of Filet Mignon. The meal was
so good, it made me want to write Richard Melman at
Lettuce Entertain You a letter of gratitude.
The good news of my new culinary outlook is that I can
look at the menu of any restaurant and order anything
off it, a luxury I’d long since forgot. The bad news,
of course, is that if I keep having Filet Mignon and
hot dogs for every meal, I’ll probably die 20 years
earlier than planned.