THINK that I was crazy about salami. The speck. I ate the carpaccio (lean raw meat seasoned).
Of course, I have always known to feed on the flesh of living beings, but I have always considered it a normal fact, somehow in my brain took pictures that justified that behavior).
They were just excuses?
Slowly, however, there grew in me a sort of feeling of closeness to animals, of compassion, of empathy. Anyone who has a pet at home knows how adorable his presence can be.
And why then - I wondered - a kitten or a dog must be different from a pig, a cow, a calf, a fish. Perhaps they are not capable of sensations and emotions?
This feeling grew in me when at a certain point, at last, I saw what I had to do and I could not go back.
I can not eat any more animals.
Love has won the taste.
What then, what taste is it?
Taste of blood, taste of offended meat, sad lives spent in the mud of a farm where maybe the hygienists never go to check.
The taste of lives taken by man to make it a product.
If Lavoisier was right, where does all the suffering end up? In the air, in the cosmos, in our stomachs? Where do all those violent shocks of negative emotions like fear, pain go?
Somewhere they will have to go. What will they become?
The calf is torn from the mother: the baby killed to cheer our tables, she squeezed to the bone for milk and then slaughtered. A mother and her baby.
"Yeah, now you touch the emotion button to convince people"
"And which button should I touch, if not what brings us back to being human?"
In a world ruled by madmen that the button, the ugly one, could push it at any moment?
Now the thought of having dead flesh on the table makes me feel like throwing up. It is indecent. Just like having a person's hairy ankle in the dish.
It makes me sick to eat other beings, I love them, I want to live with them, consider them friends and not food.
As for the taste, nothing gives me more taste than eating food that has not cried.
I read a beautiful writing once:
"I do not eat anything that fart"
Fantastic!
For me, the maximum taste, almost like making love, is a escarol salad with tomatoes and onions. Maybe with a touch of balsamic black vinegar, after oil and salt.
Or the thousand recipes of risotto, ratatouille, cous cous, fruit and vegetables, raw or cooked in every way... WONDERFUL!