Thanksgiving

I decided on a huge life change late last Wednesday night. I was in bed, reading Elizabeth Kolbert's review of Jonathan Safran Foer's "Eating Meat" in the New Yorker. The piece itself is worth reading, but here's a highlight from Kolbert's description of the lives of fryer chickens: "The ammonia fumes thrown off by their rotting excrement lead to breast blisters, leg sores, and respiratory disease. Bred to produce the maximum amount of meat in the minimum amount of time, fryers often become so top-heavy that they can’t support their own weight. At slaughtering time, they are shackled by their feet, hung from a conveyor belt, and dipped into an electrified bath known as 'the stunner.'"

Reading that, I was filled with shame--not because of some abstract vegetarian ideal, but for eating meat despite knowing about this cruelty. I have long known the horrors of modern farming, and yet I eat meat anyway.

I've tried to give up meat before. Several times before. The first and most successful time was during my junior year in college. It was actually easy; the veggie burgers in the student union were greasy and delicious, and (placing no value back then on nutrition) I was happy to fill up on french fries at every other meal.

During second semester I took a break from school. I was living with my parents. I remember eating a lot of bagels with hummus. Then (perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not) I came down with the flu. I lost a ton of weight and all my energy. My mom gave me an ultimatum: I could eat the meat she put on my plate, or I could figure out how to get better on my own. In this battle, meat won. (Actually, I suppose meat lost.)

I have had other forays into meatlessness, the most recent of which was last month and lasted about one day. My problem with giving up meat is twofold: 1) I really like meat; and 2) I have a long list of other dietary restrictions, which means there are about 3 satisfying foods I can eat if I cut out meat.

But last Wednesday night I realized I could no longer live with my decision to eat animals that are treated so brutally. And I also admitted that--while I can cut back on my meat intake--I am not (at least not yet) willing to give up meat altogether.

And so I made this decision: I will eat meat only if I know it was humanely raised and humanely killed. The beauty of living in a major city in the year 2009 is that, while this will involve some major sacrifices, I know it's possible.

The past week has been a series of heartening realizations about how huge a life change this is going to be. On Sunday my friend called from Zankou Chicken to ask if I wanted anything. Halfway through telling her what I wanted I realized it wasn't on the approved eating list. I paused. I ordered anyway, feeling more than a little guilty. But me and Zankou have had a long, happy relationship and I needed to say a proper goodbye. (I'm happy to say that, so far, that's been my only slip.)

On Monday I realized: Oh no! Thanksgiving! My cousin was hosting (and cooking) this year, which meant I either had to forgo turkey or make one myself. This led me to a very crowded Whole Foods on Thanksgiving eve, where I paid $40 for a 9-pound (hormone-free, free-range) turkey. (On the bright side, it also led to a great night with my dad, who shared with me his secrets for cooking a perfect turkey.) I showed up at my cousin's house with a little plate of Conscious turkey (with its own Conscious stuffing) and avoided everything else prepared with meat.

And so the adventure begins.