Year in rewind: Back to meat

Turkey, bacon, avocado, tomato = a delight

In a world that is heading decidedly meatless (at least here in the PacNW), I am a rebel.

Early this year that my doctor put the kibosh on my vegaquarian ways, sending me home with a Rx for meat.

And so, to begin this new decade, I began adding meat to my menu rather than subtracting it.

It wasn't easy at first. I was squeamish just thinking of eating birds, let alone cooking them. And then, a few months in, a realization dawned: I was starting to enjoy ordering poultry. In fact, I loved turkey.

A few months ago, I confessed another secret to you: eating bacon. The admission only fueled my fire and now I order the slices with reckless abandon; I even cooked some - twice - at home this week.

I still shy away from other red meats, and plan to do so for the longhaul. Vegetarian meals continue to grace our plates a few times a week; they're not going anywhere in 2011. And I need to work on cooking poultry - right now, I'm more comfortable ordering it when we dine out.

In 2010, I've ordered fish from Duke's Chowder House, fried chicken from Ezell's, and bacon from IHOP. We've come a long way.

I look forward to hearing what my doctor has to say come spring during my annual appointment.

The Game-Changer

It occurs to me that I've never shared Part 2 of my "How I Became a Vegetarian -- and How I Fell" story.

[Here's a link to Part 1 in case you want to catch up where I left off]

Flash back to 1996.

My new food plan -- a plant-based diet heavily influenced by Mediterranean foods such as pastas, tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil (coincidentally, less straining on a college-student's budget) -- quickly became a habit. Before I knew it, I was graduating from college, finding a "real job" and engaged to my boyfriend (the same vegetarian I'd been dating in college). 10 meatless years had flown by.

I scarcely thought of what I was missing, until the fall of 2005. During a visit from my aunt and uncle, my mom grilled a salmon -- a tradition in the Pacific Northwest and a longstanding weakness of mine. I was already feeling fragile, as my stepdad had recently been through unexpected open-heart surgery. My guard was down. As we sat at the table, my aunt and I locked eyes as I picked at the fish. “Shh!” I whispered. She smiled. I stole another bite. And another. And another. I probably ate half of that 3-lb salmon myself that night.

That salmon satiated me until a trip to Kauai the next year. Sitting in the open breezeway of a small steak and fish house near Poipu, my husband, Nate, and I made a plan: Today we would try fish.

Why now? We’d been to the islands multiple times, always coming home to long faces as we told friends and family that we didn't enjoy the delicate mahi mahi or ono they found so integral to the Hawaiian vacation experience. But it wasn't the peer pressure that got us. Fact is, we'd both been feeling lethargic and plateauing in terms of our physical shape. It was time to shake things up, and Hawaii -- a vacation from reality -- was an idyllic place to start.

I ordered mahi mahi, Nate tuna. Our voices wavered as we placed our order. As the waitress retreated to put our ticket in the kitchen, we exchanged nervous looks. There was no going back. This food would arrive. We’d be paying for it, no matter what. Could we go through with eating it?

As the plates arrived, we each took a tentative first bite. Then, beaming, we raised our eyes, clinked our glasses, and devoured those fish.

There’s been no looking back -- both of us proudly pescatarian (or vegaquarian, as my friend Dana dubbed it) -- for the past few years.

The taste is one thing (divine). The health benefits another: After a few short weeks on fish, both of us noticed a measurable jaunt in our step and surge of energy as our protein levels rose above sea level.

Action Item: Chart My Protein

Last Friday, I set myself a to-do item for the weekend. To get an accurate handle on how much protein I was really eating -- and how much I was lacking -- I knew I needed to look at the numbers. So I put an action item on my calendar to consult a protein chart, print it out, and see what foods have the most wallop for my calories/fat/cholesterol/conscience.

I found a couple charts, and, using my J-school fact-checking skills, cross-checked them to make sure they were in sync. Then came out the big guns: Excel, and math.

I listed all the meals I've eaten in the last week -- noting both what I ate pre Dr M visit as well as post.

I inserted a column for the foods I ate, another to track whether said meals contained meats, and a column for notes. Today I stuck in another column to track protein, in grams.

I've spent the last hour calculating approximate values of my meals, then aggregating them for a daily total.

Before we get to the bottom line, here's a fun fact from my analysis: a 4-ounce serving of either cashews or almonds have nearly as much protein as 3 ounces of red meat. True, that means I’d have to eat ½ cup of nuts -- much more than the 'palm-sized' scoop that is supposed to be the appropriate serving per person. But it would be delicious going down...

And so, the numbers. Though I knew I was deficient (based on blood work), the results of the rough-analysis startled me. And embarrassed. I used to be such a good vegetarian, contemplating and balancing my proteins, matching beans with rice and eating heaps of lentils...

If the recommended daily allowance of protein is in the 55-60g range, I'm getting roughly half that. On an average meatless day, I intake approximately 35g protein. On meat (read: fish) days -- which happen only about twice a week, on Friday or Saturday when we dine out, and on Monday when we grocery-shop -- I get closer to the mark, with about 55-57 g.

That means, on most days, I'm at least 25g shy of the recommended dose -- the equivalent of 3.5 servings of black beans; 3 veggie breakfast sausages; 2 servings of cottage cheese; or 1 silly serving of meat.

One serving. That seems manageable.

According to these numbers, I wouldn't even have to eat "meat" meat -- if I add one extra dose of fish per day, or even one of those delicious Field Roast apple-sage sausage links (packing a whopping 26g per), I'd be set.

So I'll try integrating high-protein foods into my normal repertoire -- like sprinkling nuts on salads, and even trying cottage cheese in unexpected places (like fajitas tonight; or, on a weekend brunch, in pancakes -- ala the "cloud cakes" at Endolyne Joe's.)

I am up for the challenge and am looking forward to seeing the results.

The Backstory: How, When, and Why I Went Meatless

I was a vegetarian for effectively 10 years of my life, first shunning red meat at the end of middle school when I connected the dots between the doe-eyed cows I adored and my lunchtime hamburger. From there, it took another 5 before I fully cut out all meat products.

Nearly all of my friends in high school were vegetarian -- many even vegan. We hung around in the straightedge scene, known for its limitations: no drugs, no drink, no meat. The amount of times I went with sXe friends to Denny's after shows, ordering a round of greasy food -- "But hold the meat!", and "Hold the cheese and sour cream, too!" -- as the waitress scribbled down substitutions and shook her head -- is countless.

I got teased mercilessly for being the one in the bunch who still ate chicken, salmon, and Thanksgiving dinner. My highschool boyfriend vowed to not kiss me if I'd just eaten a bite of flesh (I lured him in anyway). I was told by my vegan pals that I couldn't eat the faux ice cream sundaes because they were reserving that stuff for themselves (fortunately, one of my friends stepped in and let me have a bowl. It -- all mealy and gritty and posing as chocolate -- wasn’t really worth it.). The straightedge kids proudly displayed their non-meat-eating ways as a banner that set them apart from “normal teenagers” -- but in a way, I was the rebel of that group; the one who didn’t conform to all the rules but still hung out and had a great time. I didn’t regret a moment of it.

When I went away to college, I lived in the dorms the first year and ate nearly everything save for the cow (I even snuck some "other white meat" aka pork onto my plate. No one knew the difference; they didn't know my background, didn’t know what I typically ate and didn’t eat. I gained the requisite Freshman 15 and -- frustrated with my layer of fat and 34” waist Levis that actually hugged me in the right spots -- came home that summer and swam daily. I cut out cheese for those 3 months too, and the lbs dropped right off.

At the end of that summer is when my now husband and I reconnected. We’d known each other since high school, he a familiar face in the local straightedge scene. We’d always been cool -- hanging in the same circle, chatting at shows. We’d even gone on a couple dates our senior year (we went to different schools). But I was hung up on another guy and prepping for college placement essays and all-around not interested. After one date (ironically, on Valentine’s Day), he told me to call him when I returned home from a weeklong trip to Mexico with my family. I didn’t.

It wasn't until a warm summer night in August, waiting between sets at a show/party at Fantagraphics comic book warehouse in South Seattle, that he skated by in his green hoodie and smiled at me. That was the night things changed. I called him that next week -- albeit 18 mos after the original ask. We spent nearly every free moment together that week, and I used what other limited time I had packing up my things to return to Oregon for school.

I moved back to Eugene, living with a friend I’d met in the dorms that year. We grocery-shopped together to save money and keep a familial, community feel to our apartment. We tried to eat dinners together on most nights, both of us coming from a strong family environment where you closed your busy day around a warm meal, sharing stories and laughter. My roommate didn’t eat meat at all -- not even the “white” kind. For a few weeks, I threw frozen chicken breasts into the Safeway shopping cart and would microwave or otherwise prepare a sidedish of chicken for myself, to accompany our meatless meals. But as budgets tightened and I grew tired of cooking frozen meat and didn’t really know that I could handle the raw stuff, the frozen meats started falling by the wayside.

On the other end of the phone back in Seattle, my now-serious boyfriend was also not eating meat. When he came to visit, or I north to see him, I made a conscious decision to not order meat products in front of him. I didn’t want to screw this up. I wanted no risk of this cute boy not kissing me at the end of the date because I’d eaten a slice of chicken or turkey wing.

By the end of first semester sophomore year, I was “vegetarian.” It was that year that I came home for break and, for the first time, shunned the turkey dinner at Christmas.

My stepsister was also vegetarian during this period, so I wasn’t alone. And my family has always been earnestly supportive of dietary restrictions. My mom, a former home-ec teacher and, by sheer nature, a nurturer, willingly prepared multiple meal options for those of us who didn’t eat certain items.

It was easy. Ridiculously so.

Day 2: Not So Great

To borrow some screenwriting terms, yesterday I crossed the first threshold—eagerly flinging the doors open to enter my new world. I dreamt up what meat I might eat, landed on chicken, and went for it.

Today, I find myself refusing the call. I feel daunted by the notion that I need to eat more -- or turkey -- today. The magic is already worn, the glimmer fading. Doubt and questioning of myself, my diet -- my identity -- is setting in.

I’m not sure I want to do this.

Taking the Plunge

To track my adventures and progress in meat-eating, I’m starting a food journal -- tallying the foods I’ve eaten over the past few days (noting that these are indicative of the past several years), and thinking about what’s next.

I posted a note on Twitter imploring my foodie friends to help me reintegrate meats -- white meats first. I don’t even know where to start.

I’ve find myself daydreaming about menu items I’ve long glanced away from, feeling the tug that I *wanted* to eat them, yet my conscience (and, my heart) telling me No.

Should I go for a verde chicken burger at Red Mill? A turkey/cranberry/cream cheese sandwich at Specialty’s? A turkey-bacon breakfast sandwich at Starbucks? BBQ chicken pizza? Fajitas? Something tossed in pasta?

I’m hesitating to take the plunge. Talking about meat -- lifting the shackles off those long-forbidden foods and dreaming up piles of chicken and turkey -- is one thing. Actually purchasing and slipping it in my mouth is another.

Making decisions on what to order in restaurants will likely prove challenging. I’ve long sworn half the reason I’m vegetarian is because it’s so tough for me to choose what to eat. If I had a self-imposed limitation and could only choose from the veggie -- or, now fish -- options, it made things a lot simpler.

Shopping, too, feels daunting. How will it feel to put a package of raw meat into the cart -- and actually take it up to the checkout station and purchase it? The first time I ever bought fish, I walked around Fred Meyer 2 or 3 times, putting everything else in the cart, before I finally mustered enough nerve to go up to the fish counter and order a side of salmon. I flushed as I asked the fishmonger how many ounces I needed -- and how long to cook it.

This is all new territory. Crossing the first threshold is scary.