In the course of time Cain brought to the Lord an offering of the fruit of the ground, and Abel brought of the firstlings of his flock and of their fat portions. And the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard. —Genesis 4:3-5
It's clear from Genesis that God was no vegetarian, at least back in those days, though I feel He was a bit mean about Cain's offering of fruits and veggies, thus setting off the world's original murder. After all, how was Cain to know God wouldn't like turnips? But Christianity has been consistently clear on this point. At our Lutheran house, we ate fish on Friday, ham on Easter, turkey on Christmas, with, in flush times, a nice "eye round" on Sundays, after church.
I've always believed that humankind is omnivorous: we can eat everything, from beets to beetles. (I have some friends who are also omnibibulous: they'll drink anything, from pousse-café to vanilla extract.) But with the surge of persuasive vegans and vegetarians, I've had to alter my belief. While I still think we can eat anything, I'm not so sure that we should.
Jeanne's been a vegetarian for over 20 years now, and it seems to have been good for our health. At home, she being sole cook, we don't eat meat (I, on the other hand, am in charge of domestic toxicity: coffee and cocktails, those liquid pillars of civilization that soothe our days).
In restaurants, I still gravitate toward meatloaf, chicken curry, cheeseburgers at Ted Peters, croque monsieurs at the Brasserie and on special occasions, steak au poivre. I can't help myself. Over this time, I've lost about a pound a year, and my blood pressure's dropped. Maybe I'm just wasting into old age, but I think eating more broccoli has something to do with it.
Jeanne's a practical person, and her vegetarianism began with a medical problem. One day in 1988, the vision in her right eye suddenly dimmed. It was as if she had a translucent shower curtain pulled over her head, like the murder scene in Psycho. A visit to the doctor was indecisive: tests showed she had the blurred vision caused by optic neuritis, often a forerunner of MS — multiple sclerosis.
For Jeanne, a pen & ink artist whose specialty is close complicated line drawing, this was a challenge. As soon as the condition abated, with no particular treatment, she began reading up on the disease, and came upon a 30-year study that claimed a low-fat diet helped many ms sufferers beat the disease; so, activist that she is, she plunged cold turkey (unfortunate phrase) into the new regime. She never ate much meat, anyway — she's a light eater, with the possible exception of Paciugo's gelato (Mediterranean Sea Salt Caramel) which she can gulp down like Popeye swallowing spinach.
The bottom line is, after 22 years on this diet — although her tests remain inconclusive — her optic neuritis went away and never developed into MS. She's healthy, active and still looks like jailbait to me.
I'm convinced that vegetarianism — or near-vegetarianism — works as a lifestyle (though we have a friend who lost feeling in his toes; not enough root vegetables, maybe), especially as Jeanne's not a purist: we eat dairy products; and she knocks off the occasional fish, especially salmon, which has a few valuable oils. This leads to some curious shopping in health food stores, as she's looking at the Omega-3 fatty acids in salmon and I'm checking the resveratrol anti-oxidants in zinfandel, as if we were in a chem lab instead of a market.
Philosophically, the idea that we shouldn't eat anything that screams when we kill it is compelling, but seems, um, like overkill. Our ancestors, the great men and women who got us where we are, enjoyed chewing the fat.
In 1993, we lived in Honolulu, and met poet W. S. Merwin, who's a Hawaiian native and a vegetarian. Tucked at a table in a tiny Chinese restaurant, Jeanne and Mr. Merwin listened fervently to a long list of vegetarian delicacies, before they settled on a particular one. When the ascetic-looking waiter turned to me, I said, "I'll have the same thing, with chicken." The man looked at me with a saintly twinkle, and observed, "Well, we all get on the ladder where we can."
We laughed, of course, but I believe that's right. If we think of evolution as a ladder leading to a kinder and more enlightened world, there's a good chance that vegetarianism is a rung in the right direction. I eat a lot less meat now, but I'm not standing completely upright yet.
Just because they can't say anything
doesn't mean they don't hear you coming
—from "Vegetables" by Peter Meinke
—Peter and Jeanne Meinke's latest books are Lines from Neuchâtel (2009) and Lines from Wildwood Lane (2010), both published by the University of Tampa Press.
This article appears in Apr 14-20, 2010.