You are What You Eat

As I handle the ingredients required to prepare dinner for this evening, I wonder how I could have left vegetarianism behind. The menu for tonight is black bean soup, chicken mole enchiladas with queso fresca and crema, and roasted corn on the cob accompanied with a spicy, lemon butter sauce. Sounds scrumptious? To begin the task I must boil split chicken breast until the meat is tender enough to fall off the bone. As I pull the meat and skin from the carcass, images of my truck driving episodes assault my conscience. Trailers at the gas pumps, crammed with miserable cows being driven to the slaughterhouse, mewing desperately and seemingly staring and pleading directly at me to rescue them from their demise. The iron trailers are gouged with breathing holes with cow-shit splattered inside and out, and the smell…Oh god, the smell. I looked spiritually into their eyes every time their hell bound trailers were in my vicinity and vowed I wouldn’t feast upon them again. Unfortunately, I lied to myself. When you look into those gentle, sweet and innocent eyes it’s hard to make the connection between their beauty and that Black Angus T-Bone accompanied with mashed Tarragon Red Potatoes and Asparagus with Béarnaise Sauce served expensively at the restaurant. The chicken didn’t completely unglue me; it was the chunk of pork picnic used in the beans for flavor. UGH! A thick layer of skin encircles the fat and bone that was once a pig, BABE, get that image all mixed up with the disgusting task of cutting away the skin and fat. I feel like I’ve become Hannibal Lector. When I was a vegetarian, the smells were fresh and the tastes were clean. Smelling the raw chicken and pig and then comparing the scent of fresh vegetables while chopping the onion, bell pepper, green onion, cilantro, etc…no comparison.