Worldwide Ace

Assorted peppers and fairytale eggplant from Crescent Moon Farm.
Taken from Figs with Bri.

Hearing a Jew take Jesus’s name in vain doesn’t quite have the same gravity as when a Christian does it. There’s the immediate shock factor that the biggest name drop in the Western world just happened, but when I figure out the offending party is a fellow member of the twelve (or thirteen, if you’re superstitious) tribes, the surprise dissipates and I return to my dissection of the argument, assuming there is one.

Today, my good friend Em is getting married. Her wedding, having been slated for October for several months now, was fully into the planning stages by the middle of summer, including getting the gear, picking the guests, and, perhaps most controversial of the tasks, choosing a menu. A few years ago, Em continued her downward spiral into moral righteousness by becoming an ethical vegetarian.

I’ve never been much of one for ethical vegetarianism. I have no problem with vegans, vegetarians, pescetarians, or any other flavor of dietary morass one chooses to affiliate with. In fact, I wholly laud the immense number of vegetarian and vegan restaurants in the Boulder area, something often taken for granted by the residents who live there. My issue with ethical vegetarians is the first word in the compound: ethical. The implication, much like the pro-life camp, is that those of us who choose to remain omnivorous are unethical by definition.

The saving grace of ethical vegetarians is their lack of militant tactics. They remind you of the wholesale slaughter of life with wit and humor, making it hard to be angry that they’re trying to change you. They encourage you to try food without meat and remind you of good implications for one’s health if you choose to participate or even just cut back on meat one meal a week. And, perhaps most importantly, they usually respect your choices even if they disagree with them, an outright friendly tactic. It doesn’t hurt that we, the proud omnivores of the world, outnumber ethical vegetarians by the dozens.

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A few months ago, Emily wrote to me in a fit of aggravation. Her father, who would be peppering the audience with friends and coworkers, wanted to serve the finest foods at the reception; more specifically, he wanted to serve Fillet Mignon, perhaps the finest cut of steak known to man. Emily’s desire for a vegetarian wedding directly conflicted with what her father perceived as the best reception he could host. Emily’s aggravation wasn’t simply due to the wishes of father, but also because even she realized there was no right or wrong answer. Weddings are serious business to the bride and groom, to the families, and even to the guests. It’s impossible to please everyone, and Emily was adamant on a vegetarian wedding.

“Jesus Christ, Emily, this is a huge imposition on people,” her father told her when she voiced her bridal demands.

“It’s also an imposition on the animals when they die,” she snapped back, the gravity of the situation evident then lost in a fit of laughter. While the absurdity of her statement effectively broke the tension, ending the argument for the moment, it was clear to her that she needed to make a concise and well reasoned plea for a vegetarian wedding before she could bitterly consign herself to a meated reception.

“I’ve compromised on most issues so far, but this one is really important to me,” she wrote me. “I don’t want to have to feel guilty or bad about my wedding. And I know it seems like a really extreme thing to ask of guests, but I would say several things:

1. I’ve been to weddings where the food wasn’t my first choice, and I survived.
2. Last I checked, eating one vegetarian meal isn’t a traumatic experience.
3. It would be gourmet cuisine… not tofu and sprouts.
4. I know the argument is ‘live and let live’ (i.e. let people make their own choice about what to eat), but in this case I’m choosing/paying for the food so I’m responsible for the animals that suffer. Also, eating meat isn’t very ‘live and let live’ for the animals.
5. I’m fully willing to publicly accept responsibility for the food….so my parents can blame me and not worry about their friends judging them.”

As a man who fully believes that a wedding is the bride’s day, despite my aloofness for the ethical vegetarian way, I sided with Emily. After all, omnivore is derived from the Latin root “omni” meaning all, implying that there’s nothing anti-omnivore about vegetarian fare. Therefore, if it please the bride and doesn’t harm the guests, that is the decision to be made. Plus, coming from Boulder, land of the myriad vegetarian options, I’m well aware of the decadence possible in meatless meals. After all, I’ve spent months at a time eating solely vegetarian fare—not for ethical or moral reasons, however—and nearly half a decade eschewing red meat, coming out no less a man for it (though I’m sure I have friends who might argue otherwise).

SIDE NOTE: There’s definitely a strange dynamic between omnivores and vegetarians. After all, you can often get vegetarian options at restaurants that serve meat, but you can rarely get carnivorous options at vegan or vegetarian places of business. It’s a somewhat facetious argument when the ethical implications of the meat industry extend to the creation, purchase, and distribution on every level, but is it so hard to put an option on the menu and tell customers you’re all out for the day so they can save face so hard?

After a concise back and forth in which Emily and I discussed attempting meat eating at a Brazilian steakhouse, the issues relating to meat that upset her, and the militant, yet silly, maneuver of  serving a vegetarian meal while announcing that big macs were available on the guests’ own time, Emily took the fight to her father. And she won.

“As always, you are intelligent, logical, and eloquent,” he said. “And you have persuaded me! I concede! Honestly, and without anger!

“Let’s see what they can do. We’ll talk with mom and Tasha and the hotel, and come up with something nice!”

“Ben, this is unprecedented,” she told me. “I’m absolutely glowing.

“I told him our bovine friends thank him,” she finished with a chuckle.

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Today, Emily marries Mark at their vegetarian wedding and I’m elated that this day will be a victory for her in more ways than simply marriage to a good man. When the guests sit down and bite into their succulent portabellos and aubergines, they’ll be supporting Emily’s choice without ever realizing it. A small part of me hopes that I’ll be able to taste Emily’s victory as well, but this is her day to shine. And though I know her joy at winning an argument for vegetarianism will take a backseat to her matrimonial bliss, I can only hope that she can taste every last delicious morsel of victory today.

For Emily and Mark on their wedding day,
a marriage consummated with or without meat.