Have yourself a vegetarian Christmas
Please excuse the title of this post. I don't mean to tell people what to do. I chose it because I like the pun on the song and the way it scans. What I mean is that my husband and I are having ourselves a vegetarian Christmas this year, as we have done for a few years now.
In fact, this Christmas will probably be the most minimal and low-key we've ever had. Unusually it will be just the three of us – me, H and Chenny. Once we realised that this was going to be the case, it dawned on us that, actually, we can do whatever we want. We don't have to conform to anyone else's hopes or expectations. Not having children, we don't have to provide the full-on Christmas experience to create memories, or spend a shitload of money on presents, worshipping at the altar of consumerism (this piece recently struck a chord). And when Husband said he didn't want either of us to spend hours in the kitchen, or even to cook at all, it came as an enormous relief. Trying to recreate those lavish umpteen-course Marie Antoinette-style feasts you see in the adverts, with five-bird roasts and whole cooked lobsters (who could want that much death?), fancy napkins, candelabras and table runners, eating and drinking until I feel sick and have to lie down, does not appeal any more.
So this year I shall be using a bread machine to make spelt bread overnight, so that we wake up to the smell of it freshly-baked in the morning. I shall also be making vegan chocolate croissants the night before (using a recipe from The Vegan Society Recipe Book, which I found recently in The Works) and warming them up for breakfast. For lunch we shall be having beans on spelt toast, with this vegan chocolate ice cream cake for dessert, and which I shall also make the day before. In effect, our Christmas food will be vegan, although I hesitate to use that word because I'm not vegan all the time and there will probably be other non-vegan food about. Not only will Chenny be getting a tin of sardines in spring water (a present confined not only to once a year, but once a week), but if my husband has anything to do with it, chocolates and other naughties will probably also appear from nowhere.
I can't speak for him as such, but certainly, the older I get, the more Christmas comes to be about simple things: being with those you love, showing appreciation and giving thanks, raising a glass of something cold and fizzy, creating headspace. It's about a break from work and routine, with rest, relaxation, sleep, peace and quiet, and a walk among trees (as opposed to bringing one indoors. Our driftwood tree, decorated with hearts and fairy lights, is up all year round).
This isn't about being a Grinch or Scrooge (I know some people may scoff and roll their eyes at our hair shirt plans), being miserable or spreading negativity, but about doing what's in line with our spirit and values. It's about what makes us both happy, which includes not only peace on earth and good will to all men, but also broadening the anthropocentric view to include animals. Hurray for people like George Monbiot: "When it becomes possible to eat meat without keeping and slaughtering livestock," he says in his recent Guardian piece, "live production will soon be perceived as unacceptable. But this is a long way off. Until then, perhaps the best strategy is to encourage people to eat as our ancestors did. Rather than mindlessly consuming meat at every meal, we should think of it as an extraordinary gift: a privilege, not a right. We could reserve meat for a few special occasions, such as Christmas, and otherwise eat it no more than once a month."
It's as if he'd been reading my mind. In her book The Vegetarian Myth, which I've been strongly affected by, Lierre Keith also talks a lot about how pre-industrial man would have had a different attitude to the earth, nature and its plants and animals. One of the differences between them and us would be the way in which they procured, slaughtered and eaten their meat, a process that would have honoured the balance of the universe, the planet and the animal itself. Eating just to stay alive must have brought about an attitude to food in which it wasn't taken for granted.
With this in mind, most of the time I try and stick to a vegetarian/ vegan diet, but it's not easy to get it right when there's a much bigger context. Labels and terminology – vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian, 'flexitarian' – don't really help navigate a complex issue that's rendered almost impossible to engage with usefully in a world that includes a system that's wired and rigged to the benefit of a few, at the expense of nourishment, health, spiritual values and animal welfare. In whose interests is it that we mindlessly consume meat at every meal? When did it happen that many people started to think that a meal isn't a proper meal without meat? When it was realised that there was money to be made. Preaching at people not to eat meat, though, will never work when it's this wider context that needs to be addressed. Money always talks, and individuals will only be able to make a difference through collective efforts that make an impact on profits and turn the tables on 'the man'.
How to honour the animals we eat, though, in a world where they are subjected to appalling atrocities in order to feed us? I guess you could say this is impossible, and Lord knows I'm not perfect on this score. But I do try to do my bit by not eating meat in the first place. When I stopped eating meat, my husband continued to do so, and when he does, I know he does so mindfully. But the fact that I don't and he does has brought about a new dimension to it all. Whereas I can eat like a man and always clear my plate, he has the kind of appetite where he can only eat little and often. This means that when he orders a meal that includes meat in a restaurant, sometimes he'll find he can't finish it. When this happens and he has meat left over, we either ask for a doggy bag, or I eat it for him, as I can't bear the thought of the animal who gave up its life to feed us being thrown away. Sometimes I do it with tears in my eyes.
Being mindful about what I eat means thinking a lot about the differences between hunger, thirst, appetite and addiction. Perhaps we've all been taught to think of addiction in terms of drugs, pills and liquor. Yet sugar and wheat are also killers, and just as addictive. Whatever we eat, though, the animal must always be honoured. That's why we won't be having meat this Christmas: we shall be thinking about animals instead of eating them.
In fact, this Christmas will probably be the most minimal and low-key we've ever had. Unusually it will be just the three of us – me, H and Chenny. Once we realised that this was going to be the case, it dawned on us that, actually, we can do whatever we want. We don't have to conform to anyone else's hopes or expectations. Not having children, we don't have to provide the full-on Christmas experience to create memories, or spend a shitload of money on presents, worshipping at the altar of consumerism (this piece recently struck a chord). And when Husband said he didn't want either of us to spend hours in the kitchen, or even to cook at all, it came as an enormous relief. Trying to recreate those lavish umpteen-course Marie Antoinette-style feasts you see in the adverts, with five-bird roasts and whole cooked lobsters (who could want that much death?), fancy napkins, candelabras and table runners, eating and drinking until I feel sick and have to lie down, does not appeal any more.
I can't speak for him as such, but certainly, the older I get, the more Christmas comes to be about simple things: being with those you love, showing appreciation and giving thanks, raising a glass of something cold and fizzy, creating headspace. It's about a break from work and routine, with rest, relaxation, sleep, peace and quiet, and a walk among trees (as opposed to bringing one indoors. Our driftwood tree, decorated with hearts and fairy lights, is up all year round).
This isn't about being a Grinch or Scrooge (I know some people may scoff and roll their eyes at our hair shirt plans), being miserable or spreading negativity, but about doing what's in line with our spirit and values. It's about what makes us both happy, which includes not only peace on earth and good will to all men, but also broadening the anthropocentric view to include animals. Hurray for people like George Monbiot: "When it becomes possible to eat meat without keeping and slaughtering livestock," he says in his recent Guardian piece, "live production will soon be perceived as unacceptable. But this is a long way off. Until then, perhaps the best strategy is to encourage people to eat as our ancestors did. Rather than mindlessly consuming meat at every meal, we should think of it as an extraordinary gift: a privilege, not a right. We could reserve meat for a few special occasions, such as Christmas, and otherwise eat it no more than once a month."
It's as if he'd been reading my mind. In her book The Vegetarian Myth, which I've been strongly affected by, Lierre Keith also talks a lot about how pre-industrial man would have had a different attitude to the earth, nature and its plants and animals. One of the differences between them and us would be the way in which they procured, slaughtered and eaten their meat, a process that would have honoured the balance of the universe, the planet and the animal itself. Eating just to stay alive must have brought about an attitude to food in which it wasn't taken for granted.
With this in mind, most of the time I try and stick to a vegetarian/ vegan diet, but it's not easy to get it right when there's a much bigger context. Labels and terminology – vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian, 'flexitarian' – don't really help navigate a complex issue that's rendered almost impossible to engage with usefully in a world that includes a system that's wired and rigged to the benefit of a few, at the expense of nourishment, health, spiritual values and animal welfare. In whose interests is it that we mindlessly consume meat at every meal? When did it happen that many people started to think that a meal isn't a proper meal without meat? When it was realised that there was money to be made. Preaching at people not to eat meat, though, will never work when it's this wider context that needs to be addressed. Money always talks, and individuals will only be able to make a difference through collective efforts that make an impact on profits and turn the tables on 'the man'.
How to honour the animals we eat, though, in a world where they are subjected to appalling atrocities in order to feed us? I guess you could say this is impossible, and Lord knows I'm not perfect on this score. But I do try to do my bit by not eating meat in the first place. When I stopped eating meat, my husband continued to do so, and when he does, I know he does so mindfully. But the fact that I don't and he does has brought about a new dimension to it all. Whereas I can eat like a man and always clear my plate, he has the kind of appetite where he can only eat little and often. This means that when he orders a meal that includes meat in a restaurant, sometimes he'll find he can't finish it. When this happens and he has meat left over, we either ask for a doggy bag, or I eat it for him, as I can't bear the thought of the animal who gave up its life to feed us being thrown away. Sometimes I do it with tears in my eyes.Being mindful about what I eat means thinking a lot about the differences between hunger, thirst, appetite and addiction. Perhaps we've all been taught to think of addiction in terms of drugs, pills and liquor. Yet sugar and wheat are also killers, and just as addictive. Whatever we eat, though, the animal must always be honoured. That's why we won't be having meat this Christmas: we shall be thinking about animals instead of eating them.
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