Leaning Vegetarian

When I see articles, blog posts or comments wherein the author states ‘food is only fuel, no more’, I feel kind of sorry for them.  Where did he grow up? Has she no taste buds? How did her family celebrate, and was food really not a part of that?

For me, both for good and bad, food is far more than fuel.  It’s the caring of my grandmother Agnes, fixing us strawberry-rhubarb pie to celebrate the return of spring and fresh fruit.  It was dinner as the meeting point where tales of work, grade school bullies, political follies, and hopes for the future were discussed. It’s a moment of creation, bringing something out of many elements to, with luck, a delicious new whole. It’s a place of adventure, tasting dishes from places we’ve never been, and revelling in how different the taste of fennel or poblano is from everyday fare. And it was a consoling pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream and bottle of Guinness when the world was falling down around me.

With the introduction of more vegetarian meals into the mix, though, there’s some tension added to these connections: “Are you fixing something I can eat? Where’s the meat? I’ll just get some cereal later.”  I apologize to the meat eaters in the family when I’ve made you feel left out or excluded from the family table.  I’ll keep that in mind as we go on, and be sure to emphasize meals that are flexible enough for all of us that we can still share the nourishment of self and family and spirit.