I’ve been a vegetarian for seven years, now. It’s never been terribly difficult, except at family gatherings, and then it was more awkward than difficult, a matter of making my own dinner. I was in my early twenties, and there were a few of us that were, or were becoming, vegetarian at the time. I was at college, so I couldn’t afford to buy meat anyway; I just sort of fell into it by default. Since then, however, I’ve moved to San Francisco and become friends with a rare breed of individual; the vegan.
Tomorrow, I take the plunge and join their ranks. For the month of July, there will be no milk, no butter, no eggs, and, worst of all, no cheese. I love cheese; it’s savory, it’s salty, it smells like a farm. It’s one of the crowning achievements of human kind, up there with fire and Barcelona.