I’ve been a vegetarian since I was 16. When I tell people, they ask, “Why? For the environment? For the animals? Do you just not like the taste? How do you get your protein? Do you like beans? They’ve got a lot of protein.”
I tell them this: I simply thought about the fact that I was eating a dead body one day. It thoroughly freaked me out that something with a brain, thoughts, and life of its own got turned into a sandwich. Why are my mom’s chickens pets while a package of chicken breasts gets cooked into my dad’s curry?
This is especially controversial when I visit my mom’s side of the family in Nebraska. They raise cattle for a living, which will be slaughtered and eventually make their way to restaurants or be plated on their own tables. Declining the steak my uncles have poured so much of themselves into feels like I’m walking a fine line to both respect my family’s way of life while insisting that it’s not for me. At the end of the day, we all fix ourselves a plate in my Oma’s kitchen, mine sans Bessie.
Passing the plate of meat honestly makes my decisions easier when I go to restaurants. I only have to pick between a few things on the menu. But sometimes meat stars in all the dishes. Or I run into a waitstaff’s apologetic, “Sorry, we don’t have veggie burgers,” or a dreaded “No substitutions” note in fine print at the bottom of a menu. Then, I have to order sides. Which begs the question: How many sides does it take to make something a meal?
Last week, I decided to find out at lunch with my editor, Joe, and fellow reporter, Sayaka, at Country Barbeque, a beloved 50-year-old joint situated between a strip club and an auto shop on West Wendover Avenue. Even around lunchtime with full booths, the restaurant was rather quiet. The mostly white-haired patrons kept conversations to a murmur, the room buzzing with the soft hum of machinery and clack of dishware. A bell rang every so often at the kitchen window, signaling that another order was ready.
My options on the main menu were grilled cheese ($2.79!) or a garden tossed salad. Definitely a sides day. Sadly, two of my favorites—beans, green and baked—were off limits due to the bacon grease and bits. Joe ordered the green beans. His review: “They’re delicious, and they taste like pork.”
I ordered what was left of the classic Southern comforts.
When our order arrived, the table was full of carcasses — pork ribs, chicken, a pulled pork barbecue sandwich. But also potato salad, macaroni and cheese, and hush puppies, along with cole slaw and barbecue slaw. And it was all so good. That potato salad was some of the best I’ve had, full of color and flavor. The hush puppies shut me up, until I started talking about how good the hush puppies were—crisp while soft, and sweet.
While the fried and fatty foods were a treat, I can’t say I felt exactly nourished. But I ate with good people. To me, that’s what makes a meal, and that’s really all that matters.