KathyR, who really should consider a career in journalism, continues her questions:
4. Your bloggy bits on animals and vegetarianism have been inspiring to me. Not inspiring enough to make me a vegetarian yet, but at least more conscious. How long have you been a vegetarian? Isn't it hard to be vegetarian in Louisiana, the sportsman's paradise, the home of fried fishes and boiled crustaceans?
I am glad I'm raising your consciousness, KathyR!
I've always wanted to be a vegetarian, even before I knew the word. In fact, I wanted to be vegan, when, in first grade, they made us drink that warm yucky milk from those little cartons. The lunchroom lady would stand at the tray disposal area and shake our cartons to see if we'd drank our allotted share. I was sent back time and time again, to choke down the dreaded USDA milk. One day I learned the word "allergic" and I used that to my advantage. I was also "allergic" to those nasty hamburgers they served, and anything else I didn't like, until one day my mother came to school and was asked how she managed to feed me, since I was allergic to so many foods!
But, it was a long time before I actually used the word vegetarian, since that was grounds for ridicule in Louisiana where I grew up. As much as I loathed the idea of eating meat, I was scared of my brother and father even more. They already considered me an oddball, preferring reading to playing outdoors. My brother tormented me for just about any reason, probably, I realize now, because I was a major embarrassment to him. Lanky and redhaired, myopic and freckled, and a spinach lover besides...heck, he probably dropped out of high school to avoid being teased about his weird sister. My father was a real meat and potatoes man, and he used to scare me with tales of what happened to little girls who didn't eat their meat. Anemia, whatever that was, would afflict me for sure, and I'd be dead within the month. Plus, there was the implied threat that I'd lose the love and respect of my father—a terrifying prospect for adolescent girls.
I slipped my steak to the dog under the table, and managed to stay healthy—probably because I ate every vegetable my mom put in front of me, and begged for more. I never understood kids who hated vegetables, since I absolutely loved squash, peas, spinach, broccoli, beans...you name it, I'd eat it. Except raw tomatoes. We all have to draw the line somewhere.
When I began cooking for myself, I mostly cooked vegetables, though I didn't know much about vegetarian cooking. And after I married and started cooking for my husband, I figured he wanted meat, and again, fear of ridicule kept me from announcing my desire to become vegetarian. (We still lived in Louisiana, where, as I mentioned before, alligator is a menu item and turkeys are either fried or smoked, never adopted.) Plus I still didn't know much about vegetarian cooking, or cooking in general for that matter, other than what my mom had taught me. The perfectionist in me didn't want to venture outside my comfort zone without a guide, and back then there were few resources—especially free resources—for vegetarian wannabes.
To answer your question, sometime after we moved to Madison in 1992 I realized I was no longer cooking meat. I remember the last plate of shrimp creole I ate, from the fantastic New Orleans Take-Out in east Madison. When I realized that there were 12 lives sacrificed for my meal, I no longer wanted to eat shrimp.
I also remember the last time we served turkey for Thanksgiving. My husband wanted to have a "real" Thanksgiving feast for the international students we'd invited over. I insisted we pray for the soul of the turkey before anyone ate, and that was never an issue again.
The decision to become vegetarian, for me, was primarily about my fear of ridicule and need for approval versus my abhorrence of cruelty and my love for animals. I guess sensitive people, who are more likely to become vegetarians, also are more stung by the cruel comments directed at us. I finally conquered that fear, thankfully, and now am especially concerned that my family, who basically came along for the vegetarian ride with me, don't experience any of the stupid comments people make. (It's getting better, partly because I'm hanging around a better class of people, though my cousin still introduces me to waiters with the words "She's weird; she doesn't eat meat.")
A couple of things helped me convert to vegetarianism. One, subscribing to Vegetarian Times made me realize my choice was perfectly valid, and it gave me lots of counterpoints to those stupid comments. Two, having enough disposable income to afford a cookbook or two—cookbooks just weren't a line item in the family budget when my husband was a lieutenant (but I've since made up for the lean years). I really just needed the knowledge to back up the desire, and the ability to feed my family delicious vegetarian (and eventually vegan) meals. (Note: my husband is actually more than willing to cook, but since I'm home most days, I'm the one primarily responsible for dinner. Wouldn't want him to come off sounding like a Neanderthal.)
As for surviving in Louisiana, those visits back home were and still are some of the toughest times for a vegetarian. Some members of my family still make a fuss about having to feed me, even though I've convinced them I'm maintenance free now. ("I guess we have to go to Piccadilly, since that's the only place Kathy can get vegetables." Meanwhile, I'm looking longingly at the new Middle Eastern restaurant that just opened.) My father-in-law, who used to cook outdoors whenever we came—briskets, steaks, burgers, crawfish—was disappointed at first when we became vegetarian, but later he'd go to the farmer's market and present me with an array of veggies as if they were the equivalent of the fatted calf he normally, not so figuratively, cooked for his geographically wayward children. I love him for that.
I will confess to a secret: I'm on a mission now to convert much of the world to a vegetarian diet. As more and more people become vegetarian, it gets easier and easier for me to survive. Even in Louisiana I've noticed the grocery stores carry vegetarian foods now. One day we'll rule the aisles, and the restaurants, and we'll subsidize farmers to grow broccoli and spinach and swiss chard.
But I promise we'll never ridicule you omnivores.
Next up:
5. You have a pretty chatty relationship with your dog. Have you had other chatty pets before this one?