Suck it down.

Because I am perpetually 12 years old inside, I am incapable of coming (HAH!) up with a non-pervy title for this post. Because it’s about (human) breast milk, and cheese made from the same, and the grossed-out-ness that predictably ensued when a New York restaurateur recently made said cheese from his wife’s extra milk.

Because I am a “don’t read the comments” kind of girl, I’m gonna take a wild guess at the responses:

1. Boobs are for SEX, not food! Anyone who says otherwise is either a degenerate or a hippie whackjob. (I think I might be both.)
2. Woe betide the heathen who thinks to steal a cherished food source meant for the most vulnerable among us!

To which I say: put down the moo juice, haters. (Unless it’s your own. I’m not gonna tell you what to do with your own breast milk. I mean, there’s a whole book on cooking with semen, for Chrissakes.) Are we really so skeeved out by breast milk? This is a simply beautiful demonstration of the cognitive dissonance our culture has around dairy products. Milk meant for baby cows: gimme gimme! Milk meant for baby humans: Ewwwww, gross!

[Dear parents: Please know that I have never actually seen the semen cookbook.]

When I posted the article on Facebook, a friend who has spent time in Switzerland countered the resultant histrionic flailing with the revelation that Switzerland has a breast milk café. Or perhaps it’s a café that simply offers breast-milk lattés. It’s a niche market, I’m sure, but what a refreshing idea. I’m pretty sure no one had her baby stolen in order to commandeer her milk supply. (Switzerland is also considering expanding animals’ rights by granting them the right to legal representation, but that’s another post.)

For a mature discussion, check out Kate Harding’s piece on Salon’s Broadsheet. I have a huge girl-crush on Kate Harding, and she neatly explores, from an omnivore’s point of view, why we should all stop grossing out over breast milk (and also stop thinking that we can tell women what to do with their bodies).

You didn't think you were getting out of this without some Tori Amos, did you?

As Vegan MoFo turns….

I’m just not feeling very foody today. I ate leftover Sweet Potato Soup for lunch. I made the Tortilla Soup last night, but neither of us felt like soup, so we had leftovers. Plus, I think the Tortilla Soup will benefit from extra time to let its flavors mingle. Red had another 30-Minute Vegan masterpiece, Stellar Stuffed Mushrooms. (Though he added shredded mozzarella, which he reported was not his best idea.) The recipe is for a bunch of little mushrooms, like appetizers, but we used four gigantic portabellas instead. I had Papa John’s.

I know, right? For dinner, I had cold pizza and a glass of wine. It was a good deal, though. We ordered pizza this weekend because Papa John’s has some loopy football offer where you get a large pizza and two sodas for cheap. Well, they brought us our vegan pizza (onions, black olives, green peppers, mushrooms, and tomatoes) and three sodas, for a grand total of $20 including tip. It was quite a pleasant change from Red’s original calculation. Finally, a reason to like football.

I think that might be it in the food department. I’m definitely looking forward to digging in to that Tortilla Soup later, though. Until then, I’ll be tempting myself with Kelly’s list of vegan Halloween treats!

When vegans attack: domestic edition.

My filter failed again last night when Red told me he wasn’t going to continue to be vegan once his challenge ends on Tuesday. “You’re not?” I asked. He said (and he says it better than I can here) that he’s gonna give the vegetarian gig a shot. Now, this is a huge change from his current omni diet, and I should have been dancing on tables and covering him with kisses in my excitement. But, for whatever sorry-ass reason, all I could see was (what I perceived to be) his rejection of veganism as a lifestyle. Never mind that I too was once a loud-and-proud vegetarian, who slurped ice cream and flipped omelets and regularly deployed my friend Jess’ method for making the perfect grilled-cheese sandwich. No. I, in my myopia, was sad that three weeks of veganism had failed to convince my husband to quit animal products cold tofu.

Do you see how moronic I was being? Do you? LAME, Burnout, very lame. Y’all, what is wrong with me that I tear up over pictures of baby cows but then try to engage my husband in a philosophical argument about the supreme logic of veganism when he’s already made the major decision to go vegetarian? Vegetarians, I’m sorry. I try not to let the holier-than-thou gremlin out of her cage too often, but I was weak last night, and not as compassionate as I wanted to be. There are lots of differences between Red and me in the ways we experience food, and I failed to put myself in his place when I was huffing in frustration about how eating eggs and dairy still dooms animals to slaughter. He’s doing the best he can, and has made huge strides. I’ve told him that I don’t want him to do any of this for me, that if he does he’ll only end up resentful and hungry. He has to make these changes on his own schedule. I’m proud of him, but I sure did a shitty job of showing it last night.


http://www.nataliedee.com/

T-minus 8 days….

I’m getting excited! And not for our wedding reception either, because all this planning and cleaning is making me wish we didn’t like our families and friends enough to throw them a huge party after we already did the hard work of getting hitched. No, I’m getting jazzed for PCRM’s 21-day vegan kickstart! YAY vegan immersion! It’s just like learning another language, only tastier and without goofy accent marks.

“It’s all well and good for you to be excited,” you might be thinking, “but what about the poor husband that you’ve coerced into this, you vegan minx?” Well, fear not. I coerced him about as much as I’m coercing you right now. Red has made noises off and on about going vegetarian, or more vegetarian, etc. He gave it a shot back in January, but faceplanted pretty quickly—I think because he didn’t really have a game plan in place, he reverted back to ordering lunch at work and his good intentions went downhill from there. He’s pretty much vegetarian at home. He keeps cheese in the fridge, but happily eats whatever I cook. (Aside: last night was yellow squash-corn fritters, adapted from 30-Minute Vegan. Awesome with Tofutti sour cream.)

As you can see, he’s been taking tentative steps towards this for a while. When PCRM sent me an email about the 21-day challenge, I forwarded it to my family and double-dared them to try it. (‘Cuz everyone knows you can’t turn down a double-dare.) Well, Red mentioned it to his coworkers. When one scoffed, “Yeah, I bet you couldn’t do that,” it was ON LIKE DONKEY KONG. His coworkers are also way harsher than I am: I was willing to give him a dispensation during our reception, since it’s been planned for months, but the Grand High Council of Cubicle Inquisitors has declared that his mouth will be a no-fly zone that day. Damn, coworkers, that’s cold even for me. Upside: we’re no longer having cheese trays at the reception.

Red has asked me to do it with him, so I can have access to the message boards and recipes as well. We’re active on the PCRM’s forum already, meeting new people and shoring up support for when the challenge begins on September 8th. I’m holding myself out as reassuring vegan earth-mother, brimming with encouragement for the newbies taking the plunge. (Ego much?) I shared this post from Vegan Freak after someone bemoaned the difficulty of giving up cheese, and she said it helped her avoid the temptation to indulge in a cheese-fest. So maybe this earth-mothering thing will help a few people after all.

Red’s stubborn streak will serve him well during his three-week vegan odyssey. Not only is he determined to succeed, he’s also determined to exact tribute from his doubting colleagues. (Last I checked, his prize for completing the challenge is a lunch of his choosing. Whether this lunch will be vegan remains to be seen, but I’m hopeful.) He’s also said that he won’t be giving up cheese once the challenge is over, because it would invalidate his Italian card. We’ll see how my attempts at cultivating patience work out, because living with an omni grumpy because he can’t have cheese or milk chocolate and is sick of reading labels might strain my nerves. I’m already reminding myself that it will be the cheese withdrawal talking. Rest assured, there will be plenty of updates as we navigate this new cheese-less territory!

The famed casu marzu, maggot cheese of Sardinia. Still want cheese?