You can probably tell from reading some of my earlier posts that I subscribe to a pretty green lifestyle. This includes my personal care products (organic apple cider vinegar is my all-purpose solution), my cleaning products (vinegar strikes again) and my fashion (other people's "trash" is my "vintage").
As far as food goes, I try to avoid packaged food and buy organic and local when I can afford it. My struggle, oh good people of the blogosphere, is with meat.
Meat is one thing I will never cut out of my diet. I don't necessarily eat a lot of it, but when given the option between steak and a pile of vegetables, I'm going to stroll down the carnivorous route 9 times out of 10.
I do, however, appreciate fake meats...like, A LOT. Even the packaged ones. I love those fake breaded chicken sandwiches, the vegan brats, the Tofurky, the mock duck, the black bean burgers, the tempeh reubens, pretty much all those meatless meat-shaped foods.
As far as restaurants, Hard Times Cafe on the West Bank has some tasty non-meat options. In my experience with grocery store veg meat, Boca burgers are trying too hard to taste like meat and generally end up tasting like the box in which they came. My favorite, and official Suggestion Boxer suggestion, is the Morningstar Farms® Garden Veggie burger because it isn't trying to taste like meat at all. It tastes like veggies and has those crunchy water chesnuts worked in for texture.
1 comments:
I trade my works with dimwit friends,
All clad in black, as I;
We'd love to have depressive angsts
That we could justify.
A swirl of stupid metaphors
Of breathing my last breath,
With blood and tears as imagery--
I wish I wished for death.
Pretending to be murdered flesh,
But blood and slaughter-free,
Yeah, Boca-Burger poetry,
That's the stuff for me.
And some folks, they're a vengeful type
Who write to craft a curse,
To say that they've been hurt and stabbed,
To say that they'll do worse.
A pile of empty promises
Lamenting without halt,
Is only really meant to say,
"I wish it were your fault."
Pretending to be victimized,
But wound and torture-free,
Yeah, Boca-Burger poetry,
That's the stuff for me.
And, finally, we've got those few,
Who do self-torture proud,
And claim the ways they cut themselves
To get a larger crowd.
And as the world all marvels at
Just where their daggers slid,
These not-quite masochists all think,
"I wish they really did."
Pretending to be butchered meat,
But knife and razor-free,
Yeah, Boca-Burger poetry,
That's the stuff for me.
Yeah, Boca-Burger poetry,
Produced from growing weeds,
A substitute for darker stuff
That no one really needs.
And all of us, we wallow, here,
And say we wait for night,
But really, all we're doing here
Is wishing we could write.
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