By Michael LoRé
As I entered my apartment at 5:30 p.m. on Tuesday, it hit me like a sack of bricks.
The smell of eggplant, garlic bread and tomato sauce stung my nostrils as I started to salivate like a dog staring at a bone.
As my roommates gathered around the table to indulge in the homemade eggplant parmigiana, I made my way toward the refrigerator to take out my dinner. I opened the package, doused the wet, white block in barbeque sauce and slabbed the $1.99 hunk of tofu on my George Foreman grill.
Beginning the day before, I attempted to go vegan for the week. Going vegan was going to be a big lifestyle change for me, since I am 100% carnivore.
I love my meats. I love being at the top of the food chain and I don’t feel bad for the little pigs, cows and chickens that are lower on the pyramid.
Yeah, so what if they are poor innocent animals that are raised up to be slaughtered? They’re delicious.
After my dinner stopped sizzling, it was time to suck it up, be a man and eat the damn thing. My mother always told me that my taste buds changed as I grew up but I still do not think they were mature enough for tofu.
Before putting barbeque sauce on it, I sampled a raw piece without flavoring or seasoning.
“This tastes like fresh mozzarella minus the taste, plus extra water,” I gagged as the sliver of soybean extract slid down my throat as quickly as a boy on a waterslide.
For some crazy reason, some of my friends wanted to try my barbeque tofu concoction because they thought I was being a baby and making a big deal out of nothing.
My roommates tried it and the non-taste of tofu didn’t faze them as much as it did me. After eating all of the barbeque tofu I made, my friend Emily and I drove to Acme because I was still starving.
Browsing through the vegan and vegetarian aisles, I came across foods I did not know existed. Being the English major that I am, my eyes became fixated on the names of these foods. Most misspelled intentionally, I might add.
Chik ‘n nuggets. Meatless burgers. Macaroni with soy Cheeze.
Moving further down the aisle, I found something appealing.
“Look. Smart Dogs. Rich in soy. $2.99,” I said. “I’ll just get these. They shouldn’t be too bad.”
After boiling them and again dousing them in sauce, this time ketchup, I closed my eyes and took a bite.
Boy was I wrong. Smart dogs, more like gross dogs. They tasted, well, lacked just as much taste, as the tofu cubes I ate earlier in the night. I bet they’ll sit in the back of the freezer until Christmas break.
No matter what form that tofu crap was in that night, it still tasted disgusting. It must have been the slimy texture that got in my head.
Besides eating tofu during my meatless days, I was an avid eater of salads, fruit and pasta — all things accepted by vegans.
After doing some research online the weekend before I started living meatless, I found out what being a real vegan really meant.
According to www.vegan.org, “A vegan is someone who, for various reasons, chooses to avoid using or consuming animal products. While vegetarians choose not to use flesh foods, vegans also avoid dairy and eggs, as well as fur, leather, wool, down and cosmetics or chemical products tested on animals.”
Wow. Sounds like a dramatic lifestyle change.
On Monday, when I decided to start this self-torture, I had to tell all of my friends what I was doing and why.
Sarah Lipman gave me some positive advice on tofu after class.
“It’s just like eating white cubes,” she said.
What does that mean?
Walking to Trabant with Emily later that day, I told her I would not be able to eat Taco Bell, pizza or even a delicious chicken cheese steak. Luckily for me, she is very sensitive to the feelings of others, especially mine.
“I’m getting Chick-fil-A today just to piss you off,” she said.
Thanks Em.
She ended up getting a chicken sandwich while I ate a salad and fruit.
Wednesday night rolled around and I was walking down Main Street looking for a place to eat. “Boy, DP Dough looks so good now,” I thought. Screw it. I’ve lasted at this longer than I thought I would.
Three of the longest days of my life were ended when I devoured a Target Zone, filled with breaded chicken, ranch dressing, mozzarella and American cheese in about five minutes. It was the best $5.50 I’ve ever spent.
As soon as I came back to my apartment, my roommates asked me what I ate for dinner. I stood silent with a stupid grin on my face and they both knew it was over. They started getting on my case about only lasting three days. I didn’t pay any attention because I was still picking my Target Zone out of my teeth.
I thought, “Good run. You impressed yourself. Don’t listen to them. I’d like to see them try and go longer.”
So ended my three days of not eating eggs, chicken, steak, cheese and every other type of food I eat on a daily basis. To be honest, I never appreciated the juicy flavor of meat until I went vegan for those three days. Not eating meat for that time was one of the dumbest and hardest things I have ever done, and that is saying something.
If you’re thinking to yourself, “Three days? That’s nothing!” Then I’d like to see you try it.
Just like after reading one of Aesop’s fables, I learned a valuable lesson — never underestimate the power of meat.
Even though it was only three days without biting down on a juicy T-bone, I will never do that again. I guarantee it.
I am going to get a BK Stacker. See you at the drive thru.
