many many moons ago mike and i took an undergrad philosophy class on ethics together. at some point really late in the semester we got to a section dedicated to the ethics of food consumption (or something). one of the articles on the subject within the textbook was written by peter singer, a fairly polarizing voice on many ethical issues.

i’ll never forget the day that we had our lecture on the subject. not only did the professor (an uncanny clark kent look-alike) discuss the merits and the downfalls of the points made in the article, the class ended with a video of…baby snuggles, rosebuds, and puffy clouds.

no, that’s not true. but, let’s be honest, we’ve all seen those animal-rights films (if you haven’t, don’t. or do. but don’t.). i don’t need to go into the specifics.

yowsa’s. disturbing.

suffice it to say the next day i stopped eating chicken. and all other meat*, too.

for approximately 10 years.

and then, this past thanksgiving, i took the plunge.

hours/days/weeks/months/years of constant gourmet food show watching, blog reading, foodie friend talking, had finally worn me down.

i needed bacon.

it was a six month experiment. gorging myself on anything that used to move that i could stand to chew (ewwww, chew!). and it was delicious.

hot wings. cheeseburgers. korean fried chicken. bacon. bacon. BACON.

but now the window has closed** (minus some specific exceptions that i’m going to wait to go into…save some material for later posts, don’t you think?). and it’s back to black.

or vegetarianism. or pescatarianism. or whatever it is that i am.


*well, i ate/eat fish. i can go into why, but BORING.

**i know it’s kind of crappy i didn’t talk about this earlier. ‘SIX WHOLE MONTHS OF MEAT AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN TELL ME?!’ you might be thinking. well, as a vege/pesca/whatevera, i’ve actually come across a lot of opinionated people inserting comments/opinions/whatever where they don’t necessarily belong. this choice of mine to eat meat was mine to choose alone. i was afraid that i might come across folks who didn’t think i’d go back, or think that i should go back, and while i knew they would be wrong, i didn’t love the thought of explaining to people that they would be wrong, especially about something i couldn’t prove until now. it’s the kind of confrontation i’m not interested in. eh. it’s tiring.