April 5th 2019

Today I, just for a little bit, questioned my commitment to eating meat. During the course of the day I’ve eaten four chicken wings, three chicken breasts, two chicken thighs, and a partridge in a pear tree. For lunch I had a double chicken burger with a side of chicken wings, and for dinner I had a spatchcock chicken. And the latter two of those three foodstuffs kind of forced me to remember that chickens are animals.

I’m not a huge fan of eating food off the bone (is it ‘off the bone’ or ‘on the bone’?) because I don’t like to get my hands dirty. Some people like the primality of it, but I think humans evolved thumbs and invented cutlery for a reason. So yeah, I sat there and ate chicken wings with a knife and fork.


The chicken being on the bone — particularly for the spatchcock chicken I had this evening — just made it really apparent that what I was eating used to be a living thing. It still had bones and joints and legs, and if you covered it in feathers it would look like a real animal. Apart from the missing head, I guess.

And that was weird for me today. I am and always have been completely carnivorous, but meat on the bone always makes me reconsider. It’s just a bit icky. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe not.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to continue to eat and enjoy meat, but to do so I’ll have to go back to blurring the line between “meat” and “food”.

Until tomorrow, it’s all just food.


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