meat holiday

When I was vegan, I twice took what folks might call a “meat holiday”. Both occasions involved my grandparents and a meal prepared by them. My grandparents were always deniers and misunderstanders of my vegan diet, and would only prepare foods for me the way they always had. When visiting one summer I was presented with some venison sausage, which I ate without a complaint. One holiday visit they made a meat lasagna, which I also ate without complaint.

The basis of the meat holiday or, in my current diet parlance, the exotic food holiday, is to recognize that the idealism surrounding certain food choices can be transcended by the enjoyment of food in a social context. Instead of arguing with my grandparents about factory farming (I saved that stuff for my parents), I would simply act as if everything was normal, eat a small portion of venison, and continue to enjoy an evening visit.

And so it goes with the local foods paradigm. My world revolves heavily around food – its selection, preparation and consumption. The preparation and consumption are very often done with good friends several times a week. While everyone is aware of my self imposed dietary restrictions, there are just certain events where it wouldn’t seem right to bring my own food while everyone else eats something different. A friends recent birthday dinner was a good example, as I ate a bit of guacamole, bagged carrots (though they were technically expired and free), a cupcake and coffee. In the context of the situation it didn’t seem right to be in the strict local foods mode. To understand the importance of a gathering of friends is to get to the center of the project – community.

Another recent example was an out of town picnic for farmers, produce buyers and interconnected folk. The vast majority of the food was not local, probably not even close, but I ate what everyone else ate. Again, it was the community atmosphere. The subject of local eating didn’t come up once, and I was pretty glad for it. I’m not into defending this diet as the end-all, “save the planet now” thing to do just like I was never one for vegan proselytizing. I am taking on this project to show the possibilities, not to dwell on the restrictions.

Just like everything else in my life, Cricket Bread will evolve into what it has to be, what it was meant to be. The 100 mile boundaries will most likely come and go, the foodshed changing as I move about the state learning more about the farmers around me and their practices.

I’m still learning, still exploring, still looking at a plate of meat lasagna when all I want is a nice salad. I’ll figure out the best ways to implement the structure of a local food system in the correct contexts, the most appropriate ways to teach others the benefits of swimming shallowly in the food pool.

But I’ll get to that after my friend blows out the birthday candle, and I finish my cup of coffee.