It’s funny. Ten years ago, the only cheese I would willingly eat was cheddar. The rest just made me gag when thinking about them.
Then I moved to France, lived in the cheese region (Haute Savoie), reeked of gruyere and grew to love raclette, fondue and any other form of melted cheese I could get my hands on.
(Except for goat cheese, which I still hate. I maintain that goat cheese tastes like barnyards smell. And frankly I’m not into eating manure. Go for it. All you.)
Saturday night Alan and I went to Scion for dinner. We don’t eat out that often, and since I’m in the process of buying a new place, I’m hyper-sensitive to every line item on my bank account. As a result, our dining decisions are made on the basis of my Groupon selection. (Groupons are deals where you spend money in advance to get twice that amount as a credit at a bar/restaurant.)
In this case, I had spent $20 to receive a $40 credit at Scion. I’ll admit, I always feel a little awkward about busting out a coupon. The saving grace of Groupon is that it’s popular, so EVERYONE uses them, not just the frugal-minded.
I love meat: steak, bacon, chicken wings… I’m a proud omnivore.
So will someone please tell me why I insist on reading books that flip my stomach and plague me with guilt about environmental repercussions? Before I even crack the cover, I can anticipate 85% of the message. And my intention in reading these books isn’t ever to give up meat.
Yet here I am, reviewing Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, which I just recently finished reading. The horrors of factory farming aren’t news to me… I’ve read My Year of Meats, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and An Omnivore’s Dilemma (not to mention The Jungle) so I’m all too familiar with the cramped the living conditions, the engineered skeletal systems, the unnatural diets, the cruel methods of slaughter and the quantities of antibiotics and growth hormones these creatures are doused in.
pithypants 