Please Pass the
Vegetables
Copyright 2004 by Suzy Wurtz
A few months ago, our 13-year-old came
downstairs on a Saturday morning and complained, “Awww, you guys made bacon and
didn’t leave any for me!” Yesterday, when offered an appetizer before dinner,
this same teen said, “Thanks, but I don’t eat bacon.” Her latest affirmation is
“I eat nothing made from a pig.” Thus begins another round of the “I’m
thinking of becoming a vegetarian” phase.
We have a number of friends who don’t eat meat, so it wasn’t
surprising years ago when our then-preschooler announced her vegetarian
intentions at the dinner table. We played along until she declared that she was
going to be a vegetarian “except for McDonalds Happy Meals.” That’s when I
started to teach her the difference between a vegetarian and a selective eater
(ok, I really said “picky eater”).
For those of you who don’t know, a vegetarian does not eat
any meat, poultry, game, fish, shellfish or after-slaughter products like
gelatin and animal fats. A colleague explained it to me many years ago by
saying, “I don’t eat anything that has eyes except potatoes.”
Many people find that avoiding red meat makes them feel
better, but that doesn’t make them vegetarians. It makes them people who don’t
eat red meat.
Most of my vegetarian friends and colleagues chose to eschew,
not chew, animal products in their early adulthood and have not had meat for 20
or 30 years. Though some people abstain from meat for strict ethical reasons and
spend time sermonizing, one of my friends noted that her choice was very
personal. “People seem to think that I think they should be vegetarians, too.
Wrong! It just works for me, health wise, size wise, and world-view wise.”
Imagine a society in which everyone eats live insects.
Everyone except you, because you think that eating live insects is, well, icky
and cruel. Imagine that you’ve been invited to my house and all the courses
have live insects. You politely say that you don’t eat things that move. I
reply, “Oh, then just eat the slugs, they move so slowly, you can hardly
notice.”
I think that’s what it must be like for vegetarians. I am
continually amazed to hear comments like, “Can’t you just pick out the meat?” No
they can’t just pick out the meat, the food was cooked with meat. They don’t
eat any animal products, remember? Though my husband and I are committed
carnivores, we often cook for vegetarians. It’s easy as long as you remember the
definition.
I polled some vegetarian friends around the country for silly
things people say. My friends responded that some variation of “just eat around
the meat” is the most common. Other gems include, “They made it (soup) with ham
bone, but that gets taken out before we serve it,” “I’m a vegetarian, too; I
just eat chicken and fish,” “Just take the bacon out of the BLT,” “It’s not
meat, it’s pork,” and “Why don’t you feel bad about killing plants? How do you
know they don’t feel pain?”
Vegetarians need good eyesight because they have to look at
the labels to make sure manufacturers didn’t sneak lard or pigs ears into
products. My vegetarian friends have good senses of humor, but not all
vegetarians share that levity. A number of years ago in Minneapolis, we went to
a vegetarian potluck picnic down the street. We made a delicious pot of baked
beans with no meat products.
“Are we SURE these are vegetarian beans?” asked one cynic in
the buffet line.
”Well, that depends on whether or not you consider a pig an
animal,” my husband joked wryly. Another neighbor and I laughed. Thirty
heads whipped around to him with fire in their eyes. A few eyebrows lowered; a few jaws
dropped.
“It was a JOKE!” I exclaimed, seeing the all too serious
faces around me, “he was JOKING! And they ARE vegetarian beans!”
We didn’t stay long.
We still laugh at that story, but we do take vegetarianism
seriously. This week, our teenager’s not eating pork, but she knows not to label
herself “vegetarian” within my earshot unless she’s abstaining from all
animal products.
Because not only would she get a lecture, I’d also make her
eat Brussels sprouts.
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