“Hmm,” I said, the half-eaten meatball dangling from my fork. “It KIND of tastes like a meatball. Maybe one who is having an identity crisis. Or schizophrenic. Or maybe just mad at the world.”
“Yep,” my daughter agreed. She was probing her own meatball with her front teeth, nibbling off a little bit, like she wasn’t quite ready to fully commit. Or let her tongue touch it. “I would agree with that.”
“But the texture is not quite right. It’s kind of like … um … what is it? Oh, wet gym sock! That’s it.”
“Yep,” she replied. “I would agree with that.”
Nibble, nibble, nibble.
So went our first experiment with meat-less meatballs. The vegetarian – or maybe they were vegan? – meatballs. Balls of something that weren’t meat. Some kind of vegetable imposter trying to be meat. Compressed into a ball and told to impersonate Italian ground beef. Trick them. Get them to believe you are something else. Maybe give out a little “moo” once in a while.
Only, I wasn’t quite convinced.
If you haven’t noticed, we are in the midst of a plant-based meat revolution. Maybe you’ve heard about it. It’s suddenly an exploding industry as new brands like Beyond Meat and Impossible Foods start showing up in grocery store aisles and even on restaurant menus. Fast Food joints have begun offering plant-based options. And at home you can grill up these new-fangled, plant-based burgers and sausages. Or even throw some meatballs into your next pot of spaghetti sauce.
This new generation of plant-based meat is designed to imitate the taste and texture of the real thing. (I’m not sure what happened to the gym-sock meatball.) At least more-so than its predecessor: those bland, soy-based burgers that tasted like seasoned cardboard, only without the seasoning. Ever tried one of those? It would leave an aftertaste in your mouth that could outlive you, and make your stomach feel like it had become a concrete mixer.
But some of the new plant-based burgers, after a trip to the grill and enough of the right condiments, can trick you just enough to make you think that … well … they’re not cardboard. Some even get close to seeming like real beef.
They’re getting there. Which is good, because apparently in my house, we’re diving in. This is all thanks to my 15-year-old daughter.
I’m not sure what exactly started it, but a few months back she became a semi-vegetarian. This was an interesting choice considering that in all her years of life, she has eaten a total of 3 vegetables. Three! And one time she spit it out so fast that I had to duck, lest I require an optometrist for Brussels-sprout-caused corneal scratches.
Needless to say, it it wasn’t for the love of vegetables that she did it. Or even to be healthier. Bah! To heck with that. Rather, it was an interest in doing something for the environment. And to do less harm to animals. Which is kind of cool, and pretty impressive.
Right up to the point where there’s a half-eaten sock meatball on the tines of my fork.
But it has helped us cut back on meat in my house, which I haven’t minded. It’s also helped make me more conscious about not only what I eat, but also how much. And as I get older and my metabolism changes (ie., peanut butter cups = extra belt buckle notches,) I’m really starting to appreciate this newfound awareness. Even embraced it the past year. My belt buckle has sure thanked me. He was getting down into no-man’s land where there wasn’t much room to grow.
I’ve always eaten healthier, and exercised. But maybe because of my age – oh yeah, and the animals! – I feel like I’m needing to be more conscious now. So, I’m eating more salads. More grains and whole wheats. Less heavy sauces. More olive oil. (I prefer it in a shot glass, with a bit of whiskey.) I’ve been trying to add more elements of the Mediterranean diet to our menus. I can’t remember the last time I had a piece of bacon. (Bacon grease, though, is a big part of the Mediterranean diet.)
Then there’s all these plant-based meats we’ve been trying. I’m not sure they’re healthier than real meat, but they can hit the spot and do their animal-lovers job.
Now my daughter has started reading up on other options, like plant-based chicken. She’s asked me to keep an eye out for it at the grocery store. I scan the aisles with a weary eye. I don’t know if I’m up for it yet. Quite ready for that challenge. It’s a bit of a stretch in my mind. I’m still trying to come to terms with that meatball.
I don’t know if my poor brain can handle something like impostor chicken. Phony poultry. Lord only knows what texture that would be. Car window gasket? Kitchen sponge?
Unless, of course, it can promise an extra notch on my belt. I could use another one of those. And might just be willing to give it a try, so long as it doesn’t taste or feel like a wet gym sock.