the beef in the kitchen

"Wait, I thought I just served you a hamburger. You're a vegetarian?"

Que conversation clarifying that I am only sort-of-kind-of a vegetarian. A flexitarian if you will.

Today one of the church ladies took one look at my potluck plate and said, "Are you a vegetarian?"

With one eye on my assortment of salads and another on my deviled egg she continued, "Because my daughter is one and I can tell."

It's quite the conversation-starter, this decision that isn't really a decision. And it garners all kinds of reactions from folks when they see what I'm eating (or not eating as the case may be) and then respond with tales of their own preferences and relationships with meat.

I grew up eating meat in a household where meat was never the central aspect of a meal. We ate a lot of fruits and vegetables and non-meat dishes.

At some point when I was pretty young I decided I didn't like lunch meat. I actually have no memory of ever eating it so I'm not sure how that went down or what caused me to cross it off the list of edible foods. So I got used to making a vegetarian option when faced with yet another make-your-own-lunch-meat-sandwich event or picnic. Lettuce and tomato sandwiches, anyone?

I watched my sister become a vegetarian who ate seafood (a pescetarian).

I moved away to Texas, land of barbeque, tacos and grilling. I ate in the cafeteria my first two years, not paying too much attention to whether I was consuming meat or not. I had little concept of protein and the many ways you can get it.

I watched my sister start eating meat again. I moved into an apartment and began cooking for myself for the first time.

I started eating a little less meat simply because meat is more expensive.

Then, I started running consistently. I started researching nutrition and recipes and ways of eating that were healthier than some of the pre-packaged foods I had relied on.

I discovered and fell in love with hummus. I started cooking lentils. I started thinking about protein and vegetables and fruits and what I was putting in my body.

The amount of meat I was eating dropped a lot. Quite honestly, I didn't really miss it. I still cooked chicken every once and awhile. If I really wanted ground beef or sausage, I made it. But suddenly a package of chicken breasts and a small package of ground meat could last me 6-8 weeks.

My meat eating was dying out. I considered becoming a vegetarian, but was hesitant to relinquish the occasional consumption of bacon.

Then I received the news that I would be moving to Mongolia. A quick Internet search and a conversation with a professor steeled me with the knowledge that I was not about to enter a vegetable-friendly environment.

Mutton. Horse. Beef. Some rare pieces of chicken.

Meat was the meal for a year and a half. Meat with an occasional side of flour.

There were days that I came home from work so desperate for something green and not coated in oil that I would beg Holli to let us just please cook a plate of vegetables for dinner.

No, being a vegetarian wasn't an option there. (Although I do know a Mongolian who is a vegan which blows my mind- I still have no idea what she ate most of the time).

I came to Omaha and didn't make any hard or fast rules about being a vegetarian or not.

My body led the way and just sort of chose for me. Call it a meat detox or just preference, but I have more or less stopped eating meat in any organized or consistent fashion.

I still eat it, just infrequently. It's been six months and I still haven't managed to eat the 3 chicken breasts and one package of ground beef I purchased and put in my freezer.

Instead I've been hoarding cans of chickpeas and black beans, making my own hummus and experimenting with various vegetarian and vegan recipes.

When meat is served to me, I eat it. When I crave meat, I'll usually eat it.

But less meat feels right to me and my body in this season. I am training for a half-marathon and have not felt at all lacking in protein or fuel.

My relationship with eating meat has been a process of learning about nutrition, discovering my own understanding of how to balance hospitality with personal choice and of figuring out how to listen to my body.

Most of all, the lack of beef in my kitchen has taught me the joy of embracing simplicity in my cooking, eating and food.

I'd like another serving of that, please.

eggplant stuffed with cheese and covered with tomatoes