Steak Out

As a proud carnivore, I have in my time voraciously devoured many a slab of barely-cooked dripping-red roast, ribeye, and ribs. It is therefore with utter shock (and a bit of confusion) that I lay down my bloody gauntlet and claim defeat. The growth inside me has spoken, and it has said, ‘Red meat is for losers!’.

I’m surprised by this, because so far it has made some pretty good calls (I gag when I see/smell/discuss soft cheeses or hot dogs), and you would think that a nice beefy iron-laden burger would be just the thing. But no. I go to the fridge with semi-good intentions, and return with yogurt. I am worried that I have a hippie inside me. Chicken seems to still be tolerable, as long as I don’t have to cook it or smell it while it’s cooking. Pork is out. I think bacon might even be out, horror of all horrors. Fish is DEFINITELY out, although I’ve managed to still choke down canned tuna because I bury it in relish and mayo. Lamb, I just learned, is out, since my eyes welled up when Loud said the word to me. So what does that leave? Lentils are still good. I like beans, and split peas; thank god we’re coming into the soup season, because I’ll be able to do a lot with legumes. I still love dairy, and fruit and veggies have proven themselves to be on the high-crave list. Soy is so-so, but I don’t think it’s good for the preggers ladies anyhow. Eggs are also touch and go, depending on my mood and how they’re prepared (for example, I have had a recurring fantasy about a soft-boiled egg on toast, but when it comes to actually delivering I change my mind every time).



Mom, dad... it looks like I'm having a vegan! I just hope it doesn’t smell like patchouli.