Eat your veggies!

So I ate a vegetarian lunch the other day. I can still barely talk about it, because the taste is still there. It’s almost hidden behind the flavor of the meats but when I belch, there is still a tangible hint of vegetables. I think for a minute there yesterday, I almost got in touch with my “gatherer” side. It gives me the willies just thinking about it...

The worst part of this whole bout with non-carnivorous eating was that it wasn’t even on the purpose. Due to some meetings and such, lunch was later than usual. The cafeteria in our building closes earlier than the German cantina across the way. (How’s that for the American entrepreneurial spirit? “Hey guys, I’ve got a good idea. Why don’t we close BEFORE our competitors? That ought to really pull in the customers!”) The brilliant business plan of the cafeteria led me to the cantina where, “Surprise, surprise, Sergeant Carter!” there was still a line. Once inside, being the insightful kind of guy I am, I went for the shorter line. At first everything looked fine, rice, something with some cream sauce, and a patty of mystery meat. It wasn’t until seated at the table that I realized the reason the line was short. The mystery meat was a vegetable patty disguised to look like meat. So there I sat, eating my vegetables. Damn, I sure hope my mother reads this.

Now I don’t want to get off on a tangent here, but…I will. I’ve never understood these vegetarian burgers, low-carb pastas, and fat free spreads. Shouldn’t the whole point of not eating something (whatever the alleged reasoning) be, to not eat it and therefore to eventually no longer crave it? Could it be that eating non-fat or sugar-free ice cream is way worse than just going without? If for no other reason than it just desensitizes you to the whole idea of eating ice cream? Shouldn’t people who don’t want alcohol just drink water instead of alcohol-free beer? Shouldn’t low-carbers just eat salad instead of low-carb pasta? Shouldn’t vegetarians just eat vegetables instead of these semi-meat-like patties? All of these people who say, “It tastes just like…” or, “You can’t tell the difference…” are lying to themselves. Even worse, they are trying to lie to me.

Now I’ve never been one to deny myself, and I’m not winning any beauty contests. Although, at one time, I was first runner-up in the “Mr. Funhouse” competition. But that was due to the inadvertent dropping of the trou’ (nudge, nudge). And think there were only three people in the competition. Also I’ve certainly never been one to heed my own advice (so don’t try this at home kids, you’ll pt an eye out), so take all of this with a grain of salt (and for Christ’s sake, don’t use any of that salt replacement crap).

That said, being the true contrarian I am, I didn’t eat any meat today. Once again, it wasn’t on purpose. Events conspired against me. I was in a meeting until late lunchtime, and was supposed to go to the medical clinic with another guy. He wandered off, and while I was waiting for him everything closed. We eventually got to where we needed to go, but I never got to lunch. For dinner I had the Spaetzle that I discussed previously. Which was disappointing, but at least it had cheese on it! I had a disappointing dinner last night too. I went to a Greek place and had some overcooked pasta with shrimp and a tomato and eggplant sauce. The sauce was pretty good, but the noodles were just mushy. I think I just need to stick to sausage! Although I’ve heard of some decent Turkish places around town, so we’ll see.
The thing that is especially unacceptable is that I can cook a disappointing meal by myself, thank you very much! I don’t need to wander around town, read menus in German, pay exorbitant prices just to be disappointed. Or I wouldn’t need to if I had a kitchen ... soon …

The plans for this weekend are to rent a car and drive around to some of the outlying towns and try to decide where I want to live. I’m not sure whether to live in town or in one of the surrounding areas. Eltville is a town nearby, along the Rhine, just at the edge of the wine country that I want to look at. Others are more up in the hills. Bavaria is too far away, so there will be no living on top of a brewery, or at least a well known one. Who’s to say what the neighbors will cook up in their bathtubs? The dream of living above a butcher shop is still a remote possibility, though I doubt I can get one that actually slaughters their own animals. I wanted to wake up to the death squeals of the pigs being led to slaughter. It would be cheaper than an alarm clock, and I wouldn’t be able to hit the snooze.

If the weather is nice, I’ll take pictures.