If all else fails

...I can become a dancer at a vegan strip club. It would be like penance for all the bits of ham I've had since I arrived here. 

He Ate, She Starved, He Ate Her Portions

I’ll eat everything. If you know me, you know this to be true.
I will not eat everything. If you know me, you know this to be true.

It has been said that the Spanish eat everything on the pig except for the oink. I’ve joined them. I’ve eaten my way from the hoof to the hip with fine slices of jamón serrano. I’ve gotten all up in the pig’s face with tasty bits of carrillada, or pork cheeks. I’ve lusted in the loins of lomo de puerco.

I’ve picked my way around the bacon in “vegetarian” quiches and I’ve swallowed a croquette whole to avoid chewing the ham, whilst still getting its flavor. I’ve been turned off from fish after biting into a singular bone. I’ve eaten meals that consist solely of garbanzo beans that were unavoidably stewed in chorizo.

I ate that chorizo.

I’ve begrudgingly eaten salmorejo—delicious as the tomato-based soup may be—peppered with bits of chewy bacon, just to feed my starving body.

Oh, but you begged for a bite of my bacon-wrapped dates!

You weren’t supposed to tell!

Now, we’re off to a “vegetarian” restaurant. I’ll likely order the ham.

And I’ll have the bread basket.

Screw Union Square's farmer's market

I've always complained about the poor-quality produce in Astoria, which is why I'm so excited about this:

"...[Dan Wood and Amale Andraos have] convinced P.S. 1 to let them fill the museum's courtyard with... um, crops. Wood and Andraos have won the institution's Young Architects Program competition, which means that by summer, they will have stood dozens of giant cardboard tubes on one end, filled them with dirt, and used them as planters for cabbages, lettuce, tomatoes and herbs."


The veggies will be harvested and distributed--perhaps to the local Key Foods? For the love of God, please?! The project also calls for:

"...two sound columns--one that plays farm sounds when you sit down, another in which you can look upward, see stars and hear crickets. There is a phone-charging column, a children's grotto of columns with swings, an herb-growing column with circulating fans dispersing scents like basil or lavender [Ed note: Yay!], and a juicer column where fresh juice will be made and sold."

There's even talk of growing barley and hops to brew the first P.S. 1 beer, as all of this will be constructed around a pool, in an outdoor space dedicated to summertime dancing and drinking. The space will debut just in time for my return from Spain, so guess where I'm having my welcome back party? (Sorry Jay, you get no say in this one.)

It's likely I'm the sole person who gets excited by the idea of an urban farm, but what else would you expect from a girl who only knew cows as neighbors until the age of six?

Photo: Work Architecture Company (The example photo they released kind of sucks, but the web site has much better depictions, which unfortunately cannot be downloaded.)

Could this be the beginning of the end?

This post is at risk of over sharing. Consider yourself forewarned.

Around that time of the month, I tend to get severe cravings, usually for chocolate or salt, which, as every menstruating woman knows, is a big no-no, as caffeine and salt only make cramps worse. This month, however, has been different--I'm craving meat.

As a vegetarian, I know that having meat on the mind usually means I need to up my protein intake, but thus far that tactic hasn't worked. I happen to have a bit of pepperoni in the house, as I made the coveted pepperoni bread for Corrie's Super Bowl party on Sunday. By and by, I've been cutting off just a sliver and eating it. I didn't realize how often I'd been doing this until today when, on a recent trip to the refrigerator, I horrifyingly realized there's only about a quarter of the 'roni left (about half of the stick went to use in Sunday's bread). That's a whole quarter of pepperoni in three days, people. I'm so ashamed!

Perhaps there was something prophetic in what Jay's friend, Gabel, said to me on Sunday, after he found out I made the pepperoni bread: "You know Jenn, some people say pepperoni is a gateway meat."

Yes indeed-y, its pious vegetarian time...

This is why I don't eat meat:

People have eaten millions of chickens that were given feed tainted with recalled pet food, federal officials said Tuesday...

I have enough to worry about in life without meat, I can't imagine how much more worrisome I would be if I did consume chickens, cows and pigs. (Now, before you freak out, actually click on the link and you'll see the lede finished with: "though they said the threat to human health is minimal." I was going for shock value, there people. Now where do I sign up with PETA?)

People often ask me why I gave up meat and it's always a hard one to answer, because though the explanation is simple, people usually don't get it.

Sure, I like animals, but I also really like bacon (though I can't recall the last time I had it). I read "Fast Food Nation" several years ago and that was partly what pushed me off the purely plant-eating cliff, but it's not as though I'm protesting weekly outside of local slaughterhouses.

No, the reason I gave up meat is because it grosses me out. That's it. There's no "Save Wilbur" or otherwise worthy cause involved, it's simply a matter of taste. This is usually where people cock their head at me with a puzzled expression of "my, what a high-maintenance crack head."

To further complicate matters, I often add that I do sometimes still eat meat, albeit in small portions. My mother's amazing parsley bread contains chopped pepperoni and Jay makes these life-changing risotto balls with shreds of prosciutto. Both are made so rarely, they're hard to pass up and I never do.

People are even more surprised when I say I'd eat red meat again before I eat chicken. I still crave burgers and steak now and then, so I know I'll go back to eating it eventually (maybe), but I think chicken has left my system forever, never to enter again. For starters, I can't stand that it's white, and therefore resembles (to me) human flesh. I also can't stand that under cooking it can cause severe intestinal distress and if you've ever witnessed my skills in the kitchen, this will make sense. In fact, the few times I cooked chicken for myself and my roommates in college, I sat up half the night waiting to hear them all rushing for the bathroom because I didn't cook it thoroughly enough. I find life is much easier not having to worry about such things as poisoning your friends.

So again, we see that I managed to turn something that is supposed to be for the better good of all beings everywhere that are happy and free, into something about myself. Hello again, selfish!