Tuesday, 7 April 2009

carnivore army attacks!

I'm beleaguered and close to having to admit defeat. The army bringing me to my knees are of the carnivore type. Me, the only vegetarian in the house. I'm not entirely alone, in the big scheme of things, I have an army of friends. However, they are far away from my castle, strewn across the globe and not partaking in the daily battle of the dining table.

By now, I thought, it should be common knowledge that 5 a day is a good idea whether you're a vegetarian or not. Just that 5 a day seems to be interpreted into 5 meats a day by my entire family, across generations. And they do not take in reason or research, my pointy teacher's finger. No, they say, meat makes you strong and lets you fight big scary monsters.

There is Opa carnivore. He eats two meals a day, both consisting of lots of meat and maybe some fried potatoes, bread, lots of beer and some coffee. Vegetables may be consumed in smallish quantities if cooked in salt and sugar and called carrot, pea or bean. Next is Cubling carnivore. She eats anything that has high salt contents, preferably W├╝rstchen / sausage (she know both words, having her priorities right), chips and fried potatoes. She neither touches veg nor fruit. Attempts at hiding either show varying rates of success. The trick of the hidden carrot behind the potato on the spoon is quickly exposed. The knife of the blender is proving successful for the moment, but only if vegetable sauce created sorrounds some really salty tortellini. Next, meet hubby carnivore. Never one to dismiss a deep fried haggis or black pudding supper (what do you expect if you marry a Scot), he delights in the opportunities of divulging in secret pleasures of meat balls and baked beens that my absence offers.

I'm fighting a losing battle. I'm the cook. For all of them. You should think I'm in charge. I'm not. Cubling crying her eyes out if refused the sausage until she touched a veg, Opa raising his eyebrow when presented with a tasty mediterranean feast. Hubby not present, so currently not adding to the injury but usually at least he eats what I cook and sometimes even claims he likes it. This may be a ploy of course to create an illusion of safety, before the final and lethal blow of the carnivore army.

My health soldiers aren't working. The enemy army seem keen to show that they are healthy even with 0 a day. My food is rejected. Again and again. I feel like throwing it against the picture perfect walls.

2 comments:

Brit in Bosnia / Fraught Mummy said...

It is so frustrating. You cook something that is really so delicious and then they won't even touch it. Not a morsel passes their mouths. Of all the frustrations of parenting, this is the one that really gets me.

And I hate that slightly insiduous inferral from those with children that eat everything that it might be something to do with your cooking. The number of times I've heard .. 'shall I try him with my spag bol?' (usually from my mother). By all means I say. Go ahead. And sit and watch and think to myself that if they eat this new spag bol having refused mine so steadfastly for years I will throw myself off the nearest bridge.

Good luck with it all. Hope your meal times aren't too fraught.

Anonymous said...

This won't be of much use to you, but living with another staunch carnivore (no kids), I find that the only way to avoid the "where's the meat?" comment is to put small quantities of meat or poultry in a dish with lots of vegetables. Stir fries or curries being examples. A certain amount of fishing goes on but vegetables do get eaten. Tortilla de patatas with salad is one of the few vegetarian meals that get eaten with gusto.

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