At the grocery store last Sunday, I stared at the rotisserie chickens positioned in a heated kiosk, enticing me with their succulent fragrance. I considered the cost and the number of ways a whole chicken could be consumed, sectioning portions for main dishes and slicing remainders for tacos and salads. Pre-cooked meats are the working person’s dream; when you factor in the denomination of time, you cannot prepare raw meat at a lower cost.
But something is amiss. The salty and fatty aroma fails to summon me. The reason, though I cannot quite put my finger on it, is that the chicken carcasses look vaguely like, well, animals.
I am horrified at the revelation that my coveted, go-to weeknight dinner is remotely connected to barnyard fowl, creatures that strut around, heads darting, eyes brightly flashing, peering inquisitively at their surroundings. I sigh with resignation and vague misgivings. I do not know where this path is leading me.
As an adolescent, I despised the idea of hunting wild animals, despite an intellectual understanding that predatory killing was essential to the survival of carnivorous species. My aversion to products of domesticated livestock began in my college years. I did not like the taste of lamb, so eliminating that from my eating habits was easy. Veal was another matter; the taste was not objectionable, but the idea that young calves were being slaughtered for adult consumption was. I resolved to not eat any meat unless the creature it sprang from had survived its adolescence.
This simple carnivore algorithm governed my meat consumption for decades. Then my daughter-in-law mentioned to me that pigs were smarter than dogs, and it caused me to reconsider. I could not stomach the idea of eating an animal that forms psychological attachments and feels emotions such as optimism, depression, and stress. I eliminated pork-based products from my meals.
For several years, my all-but-pork carnivore diet chugged along without inhibition. I slowly decreased eating beef for health reasons, though I still enjoyed the occasional hamburger. But that, too, began to wear on me.
I do not know whether to blame or thank social media. My obsession with rescue dog videos blossomed into those featuring unlikely animal friendships. Who knew that a misunderstood pit bull could befriend a grief-stricken mother cow who had lost her calf? Animal relationships took on deeper meanings for me. I confronted my disengagement of the reality that my palate cravings were satisfied through a process whereby limpid-eyed, living creatures were herded together, shuttled, and cued through lines culminating in their slaughter. When you add in the industrial agriculture impacts on climate change, through increased greenhouse gases and deforestation, my beef disinclination averted to aversion.
Giving up beef was relatively easy for me, as there was still fish and poultry. Seasoned ground turkey is as delicious as ground beef in burgers and tacos. And every good restaurant serves broiled fish, which tempts me more than meat ever will. I assuaged my poultry predilection with the naïve belief that birds were inferior to other mammals. Well, until I watched videos about baby ducks forming attachments with humans and roosters playing tag with their cat friends.
My rotisserie chicken episode does not bode well for my penchant for poultry. But even if I eventually give up fowl, there is still fish. I console myself that pescatarians enjoy a diverse range of flavors and textures and a fish-only diet is widely promoted as healthy, full of essential fatty acids. (Note to self: do not click on any Facebook links about how salmon can form human friendships.)
I see an alarming blurb on the internet: pescatarians often become vegetarians, and vegetarians often convert to a vegan diet. I shut down Google with the admonition that I am not giving up cheese and yogurt. Well, at least until someone proves to me that dairy cows are miserable, and they yearn to wander grassy fields and laze in the sunshine. I reopen my search engine and type in, what is the best non-dairy ice cream.
Just in case.