ON COOKING WITH MEAT, OR NOT

Recently, my boyfriend and I attended an informal dinner gathering at the home of a vegetarian friend. She made stuffed mushrooms, which were delicious. One of the other eaters at the table asked if we were vegetarians and we took our turns diplomatically explaining no, though we both love vegetarian and vegan cooking (we just love vegetables). OK, perhaps I took too much time to delineate my perspective as a nutritionist, which no one asked for. In any event one of the other diners finally snapped "You know what? People need to eat meat like they need fucked-up relationships!" Ouch.

Related anecdote: Shortly thereafter, a different friend (omnivore) complained to me that she was having a vegetarian buddy over for dinner and though she really liked this buddy and didn't "mind" that he was a vegetarian, she felt somewhat put out because she couldn't figure out what to cook for dinner. This conversation took place over the phone and thus my friend could not have seen how my brow furrowed in response. What? I thought. And you call yourself a cook?

OK. I am not a vegetarian. I have been a vegetarian in the past, I have been a vegan, I have been a raw foodist, I have spent long stretches pretending to adhere to the Atkins Diet, I have consumed large amounts of grapefruit, wheatgrass juice, fat free cheez, Splenda, and beverages I fermented in my closet every time some yahoo wrote a book about how doing one of these things would bring me decades of radiant vitality. I've tried it all, and in the end I personally always come back to eating a relatively traditional diet that includes mostly vegetables, whole grains and legumes, minimal processed food, some meat, and the occasional slice of cheesecake. I am not going to argue here that this is the "healthiest" diet for 100% of people, or the most ethical, or the best for the planet. It is, simply, the most sustainable approach for me right now— something I can stick with. When I stop eating meat, my blood sugar goes nuts and my blood pressure gets really low and I get lightheaded and moody and sooner or later I end up cradling a bucket of Popeye's Fried Chicken under my covers, crying that no one will ever really love me. It is much simpler to just eat meat now and again.

But that's what I do, what I put in my body, how I choose to deal with my health. People are different. Some people go through life utterly disgusted by meat, and of course many of the word's inhabitants can't afford to eat that much of it. On the other hand, some people have diseases that cause wasting such that if they don't eat plenty of meat and fat, they'll die. Some people need meat for the efficiency of protein and calories involved, especially in places where fresh vegetables are not available all year. (That's my Official Nutritionist 2 Cents.) But most of us are somewhere in the middle and do experiment from time to time, perhaps making sweeping changes depending on what's appropriate at different times in our lives. There are great arguments for not eating meat, as well as for eating less meat and being incredibly cautious about where our meat comes from. But you know what? Who cares. There's absolutely no place for moralizing when you're cooking or hosting other people.

The only appropriate concerns when you're making food for other people are "What food might we all enjoy together? What will make my guests feel nourished and cared for?" Occasionally, when hosting someone with reputed illness or bad habits, I might ask myself "Is there a way I can prepare vegetables for this person such that they'll like the vegetables, and want to eat more vegetables later?"

But that's as close to moralizing as I like to get. Maybe it's because, after a lifetime of experimenting with diets, I'm used to feeling like the weirdo at the table and hating it... not because I can't eat what everybody else is eating, but because I hate feeling judged. Judgment just goes down wrong with home cooking. The two are incompatible. There is no place in this business— and I mean the business of home cooking, not the capital-B "Business" of professional cooking— for questioning people's individual priorities. The home cook is skilled and open-minded enough to adapt, knowing that someday her own priorities might change too.

I understand that in professional and celebrity circles, people can have very strong opinions about this. Anthony Bourdain is one example that leaps to mind. His blind loathing of all things vegetarian always seems so out of place to me when it pops up in his writing and speaking, a strange tic that doesn't jive with what is otherwise an incredible generosity of spirit (at least as far as food and cooks are concerned). But again, he is a professional. He works in restaurants, or at least he used to, and he hates it when people question or criticize his cooking methods just as I hate it when someone questions mine. The difference is that I have a distinct choice of who I cook for, which he does not. That choice, and any appreciation that those guests might feel for my cooking, are my reward for cooking whereas his is financial. (I could easily digress into a treatise on paid professional cooking which is traditionally men's work, vs. unpaid home cooking which is traditionally women's work, but alas I'll save that for another day.)

Anyway I'm sure Anthony Bourdain could care less what I have to say but the example stands. If one wants to be dogmatic about what other people should or should not eat for ethical reasons, one can keep one's grubby mitts off the wooden spoon and go to culinary school (or nutrition school!) and only deal with people who are willing to pay big bucks to agree. Fortunately the rest of us can afford to be a little more open-minded— whether we're cooking for the enemy or eating the dinner they have so lovingly prepared for us.