The Guilt...

I haven't eaten red meat in 10 years (except for the occasional "let's not ask what this hot dog is made out of"). Most people that I dine with know this, but every now and then I find myself seated at a table when pasta is served with a meat sauce or the ribs turn out to be red instead of white, but I usually manage to tactfully fill up on rolls and rice and salad and no one is the wiser. I go out of my way NOT to be the person who makes an issue of their dietary preferences when someone else is cooking. And I don't not eat red meat out of principal, it's just the last vestiges of my long-ago-abandoned vegetarianism.

But this weekend my Aunt Terri invited us to her apartment for dinner- a special meal together since we hadn't seen each other at all over the holidays. And what does she cook? A simple and elegant meal featuring lamb chops. Big, juicy ones that were still rare at the bone. There was no one else there! It was just ZPJ and I! I know I've told her about the red meat thing in the past, but she obviously had forgotten! So, what do I do??? I eat the little lambie. I chew it up. Not the rare parts- I passed those on to ZPJ. But I ate one chop and I smiled and complimented the seasoning and somehow managed not to barf. It wasn't bad, and it's not like I don't eat pork several times a week, but lamb is just so...lambish. I'm sorry, Lamb Chops! I didn't want to eat you! But I just couldn't be a bad guest!