Nuwe resepte

Burger King se nuwe 'Ghost Whopper' is proe getoets deur paranormale entiteite

Burger King se nuwe 'Ghost Whopper' is proe getoets deur paranormale entiteite

Burger King se nuwe Ghost Whopper -toebroodjie word deur die dooies goedgekeur. Die toebroodjie met Halloween-tema bevat 'n kwart pond vlamgebraaide beesvleis, tamaties, blaarslaai, mayonnaise, ketchup, piekels en gesnyde wit uie op 'n wit sesamsaadjie met 'n cheddarkaasgeur en, om dit te bevorder, 'n regte medium gekanaliseer geeste na smaak toets dit. So, daar is dit.

Die 20 gewildste kitskositems van alle tye

Burger King werk saam met Riz Mirza, 'n internasionaal erkende trance -kanaal, sielkundige medium, sjamaan en geestelike onderwyser. In terme van 'n leek kan hy sy liggaam in 'n houer vir geeste verander, en in die advertensie vir die burger het 'n entiteit sy liggaam binnegekom om die Ghost Whopper te proe.

Mirza is na die Alexandria Hotel in Los Angeles om die eksperiment te verfilm. Die gebou-wat verskyn in 'Dreamgirls', 'Water for Elephants' en 'Spider-Man 3'-is berug vanweë sy Phantom Wing, wat in 1938 afgemaak is, volgens die L.A. Times. Burger King sê die oorsaak was paranormale waarnemings, maar ander bronne sê anders.

Toe die hele ding afloop, was daar een eienaar vir die hotel en 'n ander eienaar vir die vleuel. Na 'n geskil het die eienaar van die hotel die vleuel afgesluit en daar was eenvoudig geen manier om daardie deel van die gebou binne of uit te gaan nie, want niemand het ooit trappe of 'n hysbak gebou nie. Daar was geen ander keuse as om dit te laat vaar nie.

Vandag sê mense dat die plek spook deur verskeie entiteite, waaronder Vaden Boge, wat in 1922 middagete vir homself en sy nie-bestaande vrou bestel het voordat hy homself dodelik vergiftig het, volgens Los Angeles Magazine. Die balzaal op die tweede verdieping word gereeld deur onsterflike dansers besoek, en 'n woedende tiener is opgemerk in 'n suite waarin Charlie Chaplin gebly het, volgens Curbed Los Angeles.

Ons kan nie anders as om te wonder watter smaak Burger King se nuwe Ghost Whopper getoets het nie. Volgens die kitskosmerk het sommige gesê: "Dit is vuil!" terwyl ander nie 'n idee gehad het wat hulle inhou nie, want hulle het nog nooit 'n burger gesien nie. Aangesien dit nie veel verduidelik nie, kan u dit vir $ 4,59 vanaf 24 Oktober self probeer. Die Ghost Whopper is slegs vir 'n beperkte tyd beskikbaar by 10 restaurante op die volgende plekke:

  • 19901 Van Dyke Road, Detroit, Michigan

  • New Covington Pike, Memphis, Tennessee

  • 2400 Castor Avenue, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  • 2834 N. 44th Street, Phoenix, Arizona

  • 822 Evans Road, Suite 107, San Antonio, Texas

  • 6135 El Cajon Boulevard, San Diego, Kalifornië

  • Powellstraat 25, San Francisco, Kalifornië

  • 5918 Ogeechee Road, Savannah, Georgia

  • 1601 Old Trolley Road, Summerville, Suid -Carolina

  • 2423 South Carrollton Avenue, New Orleans, Louisiana

Jammer, as u nie op een van die plekke is nie. Gelukkig het u nie die bonatuurlike nodig om u te vertel watter stukkie die beste is nie. Daardie ouens het nie eers smaakknoppies nie, of hoe? Selfs as u een in 'n spookhotel eet, is daar niks skrikwekkends aan die 101 beste hamburgers in Amerika nie.


Wat ek geleer het van meer as 10 jaar se probeer om vleis te vermy

Toe ek grootgeword het in 'n veelrassige huishouding, van Indiese, Italiaanse en Puerto Ricaanse afkoms, het ek grootgeword op tandoori kabobs met my naan, gehaktballetjies met my pasta en pollo met my arroz. Groente was slegs aan die kant, met 'n fasade van voedingsbalans. Vleis het egter altyd die middelpunt gebly — die belangrikste gebeurtenis van elke maaltyd. Eenvoudig gestel, vleis was die basis van my dieet.

In onlangse jare het ek begin kwaad raak vir my afhanklikheid van vleis. Kyk na Bong Joon-ho se film van 2017 Okja het 'n skrik op die lyf gekry oor hoe my kos voorberei word, wie dit produseer en die onpersoonlike houding wat ons samelewing inneem oor die behandeling van diere. Ek het besef hoe verwyderd ek eintlik was van die diere wat ek eet, en ek het 'n gebrek aan deernis vir die natuur gevoel toe ek myself mislei het om diere van industrieel boerdery te skei van diegene wat vrylik mag rondloop. Ek het begin wonder of ek selfs die vlees van 'n dier in my dieet nodig het: sou dit moontlik wees om 'n dag te gaan sonder om dit te begeer? Hoe gaan dit met 'n week? N maand? N jaar? Wat daarvan om vleisverbruik heeltemal uit te skakel? Is hierdie leefstyl haalbaar sonder om die geure waarna ek smag op te gee?

Tot aan die begin van die Industriële Revolusie was vleis 'n luukse vir die rykes en 'n seldsame lekkerny vir die werkersklas in die Verenigde State. Teen die laat 1800's het die tegnologiese vooruitgang die produksie eksponensieel versnel, aangesien die uitvoer van Amerikaanse beesvleis byna 400 miljoen pond beesvleis en 671 miljoen pond varkvleis beloop het. Teen die begin van die eeu het vleis 'n vermoedelike bestanddeel geword in die daaglikse voorbereiding van die moderne wêreld.

Supermarkte en kitskoskettings was nog altyd toegerus om enige verpakte of bereide vee aan ons te bied. In baie gevalle is geregte met vleis goedkoper as nie-vleisetende opsies (die uitsondering is Indiese restaurante). Dit is heeltemal logies dat groente as weggooibare beskou word - 'n nagedagte vir die gemiddelde Amerikaanse smaak - terwyl vleis as 'n belangrike eienskap van ons sent en ons spysvertering beskou word.

Die meeste restaurante se spyskaarte plaas vleis in die hoofgeregte in so 'n groot mate dat daar 'vegetariese' opsies vir minder bloeddorstiges is, wat daartoe kan lei dat mede-gaste jou bespot omdat hulle 'n alternatief kies vir wat volgens ons die norm is-en beslis moenie 'n slaai bestel nie, tensy jy jou gat wil laat skop.

Waarom het die eet van hoender, vis, beesvleis of vark die standaard geword eerder as 'n seldsame lekkerny? En is dit moontlik om te veel deel te neem? Met 'n groeiende wêreldwye vleisproduksiebedryf veroorsaak fabrieke nie net die vernietiging van die omgewing nie, maar meer en meer gesondheidsverslae verklaar dat te veel vleis net onnodig is, maar dat dit ook sleg is vir u.

In werklikheid neem die vleisverbruik in die Verenigde State net toe. In 2018 het die Amerikaanse departement van landbou beraam dat Amerikaners rekordvleisvleis bereik het met 'n gemiddelde van 222 pond rooivleis en pluimvee per persoon. Ons weet al langer dat die eet van te veel vleis hoë cholesterol produseer, wat dikwels tot hartsiektes lei, wat jaarliks ​​meer as 600 000 sterftes in die VSA veroorsaak, en tog verbruik Amerikaners steeds vier keer soveel vleis as in enige ander land.

. U verstaan ​​waarom ek begin wonder het of dit moontlik is om afstand te neem van vleisopsies sonder om vreeslik daarna te smag.

En tog het ek al meer as 'n dekade lank desperaat probeer om vegetariër te word om 'n gesonder leefstyl te soek en my koolstofvoetspoor te verminder. Dit was nie maklik tydens gesinsete nie, ouer familielede het dit moeilik gehad om spaghetti sonder gehaktballetjies, habichuelas sonder perniel of kerrie sonder hoender te verstaan. Vyf jaar gelede het my eerste poging om vegetariër te word, slegs nege maande geduur, en ek het in die proses twintig pond opgedoen weens die oorbelasting van koolhidrate. My onwilligheid om groente-gefokusde opsies te ondersoek, het gelei tot bevrore etes en te veel koolhidrate. Ek was nie heeltemal bereid om groente te laat smaak nie - ek het nog nie my vrou ontmoet wat my gou gehelp het om opsies binne my eie kulturele agtergrond te ondersoek nie.

Ons het geleer om saam Indiese kos te kook, 'n kombuis wat 'n verskeidenheid vegetariese geregte bied, van palak paneer (spinasiekerrie met kaasmielies) tot chana masala (kekerertjiekerrie). Puerto Ricaanse en Italiaanse kos het 'n paar uitdagings gebied, maar ons het plaasvervangers gevind vir vleisagtige krammetjies, soos plátanos saam met rys en bone en eiervrug bo -op pasta en tamatiesous. Ontbyt was die maklikste - hawermout het my gevul en energie verskaf om die dag te begin. Middagete word vereenvoudig. Ek het toebroodjies begin agterlaat vir slaaie, sodat kreatiwiteit meer groente soos aartappels by artisjokke kon meng. Binne maande nadat ek by haar was, het ek gewig verloor en ook minder opgeblase.

Buite die huis word kitskos-junkies-ek ingesluit-al hoe meer oop vir nuwe vleisvervangers wat die mark betree. Dit is moontlik dat ons almal omgewingsbewus word (. Of meer besorg is oor ons eie welstand), of miskien is sommige net nuuskierig hoe hierdie nuwe alternatiewe smaak. Hoe dan ook, 95 persent van die mense wat in 2019 'n plant-gebaseerde burger gekoop het, was ook vleiseters. Hierdie nuwe, vleislose bedryf groei elke jaar, met 'n algehele groei van 10 persent van die vorige jaar. Groot kettings, waaronder Burger King, bied nou plante-gebaseerde opsies soos die Impossible Whopper aan, wat die moontlikheid van vegetarisme meer toeganklik maak vir die algemene publiek.

Verlede week was ek besig om uit 'n te koel skool te gaan. U weet, die soort plek wat die idee van vrylopende gebakte beeste waardeer om die skuld van hul kliënte te verlig. Tot my verbasing bied hulle 'n tuisgemaakte Impossible Burger aan (maar moenie die koning vertel nie). Ek beskou die nuwe spyskaart as 'n geleentheid om die hype te proe en te besluit of ek werklik 'n vleislose toekoms vir myself kan sien, beide binne en buite my huis. Ek het 'n hap geneem en 'n sponsagtige konsekwentheid verwag, maar tot my verbasing was dit ferm en klam, net soos beesvleis. Na nog 'n paar happies kon ek regtig nie die verskil onderskei nie.

Burgers is natuurlik nie 'n alledaagse maaltyd nie. Sedert die aanvang van die pandemie het ek daarin geslaag om my vleisverbruik aansienlik te beperk en noodwendig weer kreatiewer in die kombuis te word. Ek het ryk vullingsalternatiewe ontdek (sien: blomkool, spruitjies, pampoen en sampioene), wat almal maklik byna elke kulturele kombuis pas, of dit nou roerbraai, kerrie, tert of gereg is barbecue. Ek en my vrou het mekaar aangemoedig om met nuwe resepte te eksperimenteer, en ons limiete is verder gestoot. Gisteraand het ons 'n tuisgemaakte swartboontjieburger probeer. Dit was seker 'n bietjie dig, maar dit was ook heerlik en vol proteïene en vesel.


Wat ek geleer het van meer as 10 jaar se probeer om vleis te vermy

Toe ek grootgeword het in 'n veelrassige huishouding, van Indiese, Italiaanse en Puerto Ricaanse afkoms, het ek grootgeword op tandoori kabobs met my naan, gehaktballetjies met my pasta en pollo met my arroz. Groente was slegs aan die kant, met 'n fasade van voedingsbalans. Vleis het egter altyd die middelpunt gebly — die belangrikste gebeurtenis van elke maaltyd. Eenvoudig gestel, vleis was die basis van my dieet.

In onlangse jare het ek begin kwaad raak vir my afhanklikheid van vleis. Kyk na Bong Joon-ho se film van 2017 Okja het 'n skrik op die lyf gekry oor hoe my kos voorberei word, wie dit produseer en die onpersoonlike houding wat ons samelewing inneem oor die behandeling van diere. Ek het besef hoe verwyderd ek eintlik was van die diere wat ek eet, en ek het 'n gebrek aan deernis vir die natuur gevoel terwyl ek myself mislei het om diere van industrieel te laat skei van diegene wat toegelaat is om vry rond te loop. Ek het begin wonder of ek selfs die vlees van 'n dier in my dieet nodig het: sou dit moontlik wees om 'n dag te gaan sonder om dit te begeer? Hoe gaan dit met 'n week? N maand? N jaar? Wat daarvan om vleisverbruik heeltemal uit te skakel? Is hierdie leefstyl haalbaar sonder om die geure waarna ek smag op te gee?

Tot aan die begin van die Industriële Revolusie was vleis 'n luukse vir die rykes en 'n seldsame lekkerny vir die werkersklas in die Verenigde State. Teen die laat 1800's het die tegnologiese vooruitgang die produksie eksponensieel versnel, aangesien die uitvoer van Amerikaanse beesvleis byna 400 miljoen pond beesvleis en 671 miljoen pond varkvleis beloop het. Teen die begin van die eeu het vleis 'n vermoedelike bestanddeel geword in die daaglikse voorbereiding van die moderne wêreld.

Supermarkte en kitskoskettings was nog altyd toegerus om enige verpakte of bereide vee aan ons te bied. In baie gevalle is geregte met vleis goedkoper as nie-vleisetende opsies (die uitsondering is Indiese restaurante). Dit is heeltemal logies dat groente as weggooibare beskou word - 'n nagedagte vir die gemiddelde Amerikaanse smaak - terwyl vleis as 'n belangrike eienskap van ons sent en ons spysvertering beskou word.

Die meeste restaurante se spyskaarte plaas vleis in die hoofgeregte in die lig, sodat daar 'vegetariese' opsies vir minder bloeddorstiges is, wat daartoe kan lei dat mede-eetgenote jou bespot omdat hulle 'n alternatief gekies het wat volgens ons die norm is-en beslis moenie 'n slaai bestel nie, tensy jy jou gat wil laat skop.

Waarom het die eet van hoender, vis, beesvleis of vark die standaard geword eerder as 'n seldsame lekkerny? En is dit moontlik om te veel deel te neem? Met 'n groeiende wêreldwye vleisproduksiebedryf veroorsaak fabrieke nie net die vernietiging van die omgewing nie, maar meer en meer gesondheidsverslae verklaar dat te veel vleis net onnodig is, maar dat dit ook sleg is vir u.

In werklikheid neem die vleisverbruik in die Verenigde State net toe. In 2018 beraam die Amerikaanse departement van landbou dat Amerikaners rekordvleisvleisvlakke bereik het met 'n gemiddelde van 222 pond rooivleis en pluimvee per persoon. Ons weet al langer dat die eet van te veel vleis hoë cholesterol produseer, wat dikwels tot hartsiektes lei, wat elke jaar meer as 600 000 sterftes in die VSA veroorsaak, en tog verbruik Amerikaners steeds vier keer soveel vleis as in enige ander land.

. U verstaan ​​waarom ek begin wonder het of dit moontlik is om afstand te neem van vleisopsies sonder om vreeslik daarna te smag.

En tog het ek al meer as 'n dekade lank desperaat probeer om vegetariër te word om 'n gesonder leefstyl te soek en my koolstofvoetspoor te verminder. Dit was nie maklik tydens gesinsete nie, ouer familielede het dit moeilik gehad om spaghetti sonder gehaktballetjies, habichuelas sonder perniel of kerrie sonder hoender te verstaan. Vyf jaar gelede het my eerste poging om vegetariër te word, slegs nege maande geduur, en ek het in die proses twintig pond opgedoen weens die oorbelasting van koolhidrate. My onwilligheid om groente-gefokusde opsies te ondersoek, het gelei tot bevrore etes en te veel koolhidrate. Ek was nie heeltemal bereid om groente te laat smaak nie - ek het nog nie my vrou ontmoet wat my gou gehelp het om opsies binne my eie kulturele agtergrond te ondersoek nie.

Ons het geleer om saam Indiese kos te kook, 'n kombuis wat 'n verskeidenheid vegetariese geregte bied, van palak paneer (spinasiekerrie met kaasmielies) tot chana masala (kekerertjiekerrie). Puerto Ricaanse en Italiaanse kos bied 'n paar uitdagings, maar ons het plaasvervangers gevind vir vleisagtige krammetjies, soos plátanos saam met rys en bone en eiervrug bo -op pasta en tamatiesous. Ontbyt was die maklikste - hawermout het my gevul en energie verskaf om die dag te begin. Middagete word vereenvoudig. Ek het toebroodjies begin agterlaat vir slaaie, sodat kreatiwiteit meer groente, soos stringbone, by artisjokke kon meng. Binne maande nadat ek by haar was, het ek gewig verloor en ook minder opgeblase.

Buite die huis word kitskos-junkies-ek ingesluit-al hoe meer oop vir nuwe vleisvervangers wat die mark betree. Dit is moontlik dat ons almal omgewingsbewus raak (. Of meer besorg is oor ons eie welstand), of miskien is sommige net nuuskierig hoe hierdie nuwe alternatiewe smaak. Hoe dan ook, 95 persent van die mense wat in 2019 'n plant-gebaseerde burger gekoop het, was ook vleiseters. Hierdie nuwe, vleislose bedryf groei elke jaar, met 'n algehele groei van 10 persent van die vorige jaar. Groot kettings, waaronder Burger King, bied nou plantgebaseerde opsies soos die Impossible Whopper aan, wat die moontlikheid van vegetarisme meer toeganklik maak vir die algemene publiek.

Verlede week was ek besig om uit 'n te koel skool te gaan. U weet, die soort plek wat die idee van vrylopende gebakte beeste waardeer om die skuld van hul kliënte te verlig. Tot my verbasing bied hulle 'n tuisgemaakte Impossible Burger aan (maar vertel dit nie aan die koning nie). Ek beskou die nuwe spyskaart as 'n geleentheid om die hype te proe en te besluit of ek werklik 'n vleislose toekoms vir myself kan sien, beide binne en buite my huis. Ek het 'n hap geneem en 'n sponsagtige konsekwentheid verwag, maar tot my verbasing was dit ferm en klam, net soos beesvleis. Na nog 'n paar happies kon ek regtig nie die verskil onderskei nie.

Burgers is natuurlik nie 'n alledaagse maaltyd nie. Sedert die aanvang van die pandemie het ek daarin geslaag om my vleisverbruik aansienlik te beperk en noodwendig weer kreatiewer in die kombuis te word. Ek het ryk vullingsalternatiewe ontdek (sien: blomkool, spruitjies, pampoen en sampioene), wat almal maklik byna elke kulturele kombuis pas, of dit nou roerbraai, kerrie, tert of gereg is barbecue. Ek en my vrou het mekaar aangemoedig om met nuwe resepte te eksperimenteer, en ons perke is gevolglik verder gestoot. Gisteraand het ons 'n tuisgemaakte swartboontjieburger probeer. Dit was seker 'n bietjie dig, maar dit was ook heerlik en vol proteïene en vesel.


Wat ek geleer het van meer as 10 jaar se probeer om vleis te vermy

Toe ek grootgeword het in 'n veelrassige huishouding, van Indiese, Italiaanse en Puerto Ricaanse afkoms, het ek grootgeword op tandoori kabobs met my naan, gehaktballetjies met my pasta en pollo met my arroz. Groente was slegs aan die kant, met 'n fasade van voedingsbalans. Vleis het egter altyd die middelpunt gebly — die belangrikste gebeurtenis van elke maaltyd. Eenvoudig gestel, vleis was die basis van my dieet.

In onlangse jare het ek begin kwaad raak vir my afhanklikheid van vleis. Kyk na Bong Joon-ho se film van 2017 Okja het 'n skrik op die lyf gekry oor hoe my kos voorberei word, wie dit produseer en die onpersoonlike houding wat ons samelewing inneem oor die behandeling van diere. Ek het besef hoe verwyderd ek eintlik van die diere was wat ek geëet het, en ek het 'n gebrek aan deernis vir die natuur gevoel terwyl ek myself mislei het om diere van industriële boerdery te skei van diegene wat toegelaat is om vry rond te loop. Ek het begin wonder of ek selfs die vlees van 'n dier in my dieet nodig het: sou dit moontlik wees om 'n dag te gaan sonder om dit te begeer? Hoe gaan dit met 'n week? N maand? N jaar? Wat daarvan om vleisverbruik heeltemal uit te skakel? Is hierdie leefstyl haalbaar sonder om die geure waarna ek smag op te gee?

Tot aan die begin van die Industriële Revolusie was vleis 'n luukse vir die rykes en 'n seldsame lekkerny vir die werkersklas in die Verenigde State. Teen die laat 1800's het die tegnologiese vooruitgang die produksie eksponensieel versnel, aangesien die uitvoer van Amerikaanse beesvleis byna 400 miljoen pond beesvleis en 671 miljoen pond varkvleis beloop het. Teen die begin van die eeu het vleis 'n vermoedelike bestanddeel geword in die daaglikse voorbereiding van die moderne wêreld.

Supermarkte en kitskoskettings was nog altyd toegerus om enige verpakte of bereide vee aan ons te bied. In baie gevalle is geregte met vleis goedkoper as nie-vleisetende opsies (die uitsondering is Indiese restaurante). Dit is heeltemal logies dat groente as weggooibare beskou word - 'n nagedagte vir die gemiddelde Amerikaanse smaak - terwyl vleis as 'n belangrike eienskap van ons sent en ons spysvertering beskou word.

Die meeste restaurante se spyskaarte plaas vleis in die hoofgeregte in die lig, sodat daar 'vegetariese' opsies vir minder bloeddorstiges is, wat daartoe kan lei dat mede-eetgenote jou bespot omdat hulle 'n alternatief gekies het wat volgens ons die norm is-en beslis moenie 'n slaai bestel nie, tensy jy jou gat wil laat skop.

Waarom het die eet van hoender, vis, beesvleis of vark die standaard geword eerder as 'n seldsame lekkerny? En is dit moontlik om te veel deel te neem? Met 'n groeiende wêreldwye vleisproduksiebedryf veroorsaak fabrieke nie net die vernietiging van die omgewing nie, maar meer en meer gesondheidsverslae verklaar dat te veel vleis net onnodig is, maar dat dit ook sleg is vir u.

In werklikheid neem die vleisverbruik in die Verenigde State net toe. In 2018 beraam die Amerikaanse departement van landbou dat Amerikaners rekordvleisvleisvlakke bereik het met 'n gemiddelde van 222 pond rooivleis en pluimvee per persoon. Ons weet al langer dat die eet van te veel vleis hoë cholesterol produseer, wat dikwels tot hartsiektes lei, wat elke jaar meer as 600 000 sterftes in die VSA veroorsaak, en tog verbruik Amerikaners steeds vier keer soveel vleis as in enige ander land.

. U verstaan ​​waarom ek begin wonder het of dit moontlik is om afstand te neem van vleisopsies sonder om vreeslik daarna te smag.

En steeds het ek probeer om meer as 'n dekade lank vegetariër te word om 'n gesonder leefstyl te soek en my koolstofvoetspoor te verminder. Dit was nie maklik tydens gesinsete nie, ouer familielede het dit moeilik gehad om spaghetti sonder gehaktballetjies, habichuelas sonder perniel of kerrie sonder hoender te verstaan. Vyf jaar gelede het my eerste poging om vegetariër te word, slegs nege maande geduur, en ek het in die proses twintig pond opgedoen weens die oorbelasting van koolhidrate. My onwilligheid om groente-gefokusde opsies te ondersoek, het gelei tot bevrore etes en te veel koolhidrate. Ek was nie heeltemal bereid om groente te laat smaak nie - ek het nog nie my vrou ontmoet wat my gou gehelp het om opsies binne my eie kulturele agtergrond te ondersoek nie.

Ons het geleer om saam Indiese kos te kook, 'n kombuis wat 'n verskeidenheid vegetariese geregte bied, van palak paneer (spinasiekerrie met kaasmielies) tot chana masala (kekerertjiekerrie). Puerto Ricaanse en Italiaanse kos het 'n paar uitdagings gebied, maar ons het plaasvervangers gevind vir vleisagtige krammetjies, soos plátanos saam met rys en bone en eiervrug bo -op pasta en tamatiesous. Ontbyt was die maklikste - hawermout het my gevul en energie verskaf om die dag te begin. Middagete word vereenvoudig. Ek het toebroodjies begin agterlaat vir slaaie, sodat kreatiwiteit meer groente soos aartappels by artisjokke kon meng. Binne maande nadat ek by haar was, het ek gewig verloor en ook minder opgeblase.

Buite die huis word kitskos-junkies-ek ingesluit-al hoe meer oop vir nuwe vleisvervangers wat die mark betree. Dit is moontlik dat ons almal omgewingsbewus raak (. Of meer besorg is oor ons eie welstand), of miskien is sommige net nuuskierig hoe hierdie nuwe alternatiewe smaak. Hoe dan ook, 95 persent van die mense wat 'n plant-gebaseerde burger in 2019 gekoop het, was ook vleiseters. Hierdie nuwe, vleislose bedryf groei elke jaar, met 'n algehele groei van 10 persent van die vorige jaar. Groot kettings, waaronder Burger King, bied nou plantgebaseerde opsies soos die Impossible Whopper aan, wat die moontlikheid van vegetarisme meer toeganklik maak vir die algemene publiek.

Verlede week was ek besig om uit 'n te koel skool te gaan. U weet, die soort plek wat die idee van vrylopende gebakte beeste waardeer om die skuld van hul kliënte te verlig. Tot my verbasing bied hulle 'n tuisgemaakte Impossible Burger aan (maar vertel dit nie aan die koning nie). Ek beskou die nuwe spyskaart as 'n geleentheid om die hype te proe en te besluit of ek werklik 'n vleislose toekoms vir myself kan sien, beide binne en buite my huis. Ek het 'n hap geneem en 'n sponsagtige konsekwentheid verwag, maar tot my verbasing was dit ferm en klam, net soos beesvleis. Na nog 'n paar happies kon ek regtig nie die verskil onderskei nie.

Burgers is natuurlik nie 'n alledaagse maaltyd nie. Sedert die aanvang van die pandemie het ek daarin geslaag om my vleisverbruik aansienlik te beperk en noodwendig weer kreatiewer in die kombuis te word. Ek het ryk vullingsalternatiewe ontdek (sien: blomkool, spruitjies, pampoen en sampioene), wat almal maklik byna elke kulturele kombuis pas, of dit nou roerbraai, kerrie, tert of gereg is barbecue. Ek en my vrou het mekaar aangemoedig om met nuwe resepte te eksperimenteer, en ons perke is gevolglik verder gestoot. Gisteraand het ons 'n tuisgemaakte swartboontjieburger probeer. Dit was seker 'n bietjie dig, maar dit was ook heerlik en vol proteïene en vesel.


Wat ek geleer het van meer as 10 jaar se probeer om vleis te vermy

Toe ek grootgeword het in 'n veelrassige huishouding, van Indiese, Italiaanse en Puerto Ricaanse afkoms, het ek grootgeword op tandoori kabobs met my naan, gehaktballetjies met my pasta en pollo met my arroz. Groente was slegs aan die kant, met 'n fasade van voedingsbalans. Vleis het egter altyd die middelpunt gebly — die belangrikste gebeurtenis van elke maaltyd. Eenvoudig gestel, vleis was die basis van my dieet.

In onlangse jare het ek begin kwaad raak vir my afhanklikheid van vleis. Kyk na Bong Joon-ho se film van 2017 Okja het 'n skrik op die lyf gekry oor hoe my kos voorberei word, wie dit produseer en die onpersoonlike houding wat ons samelewing inneem oor die behandeling van diere. Ek het besef hoe verwyderd ek eintlik was van die diere wat ek eet, en ek het 'n gebrek aan deernis vir die natuur gevoel terwyl ek myself mislei het om diere van industrieel te laat skei van diegene wat toegelaat is om vry rond te loop. Ek het begin wonder of ek selfs die vlees van 'n dier in my dieet nodig het: sou dit moontlik wees om 'n dag te gaan sonder om dit te begeer? Hoe gaan dit met 'n week? N maand? N jaar? Hoe gaan dit met die uitskakeling van vleisverbruik? Is hierdie leefstyl haalbaar sonder om die geure waarna ek smag op te gee?

Tot aan die begin van die Industriële Revolusie was vleis 'n luukse vir die rykes en 'n seldsame lekkerny vir die werkersklas in die Verenigde State. Teen die laat 1800's het die tegnologiese vooruitgang die produksie eksponensieel versnel, aangesien die uitvoer van Amerikaanse beesvleis byna 400 miljoen pond beesvleis en 671 miljoen pond varkvleis beloop het. Teen die begin van die eeu het vleis 'n vermoedelike bestanddeel geword in die daaglikse voorbereiding van die moderne wêreld.

Supermarkte en kitskoskettings was nog altyd toegerus om enige verpakte of bereide vee aan ons te bied. In baie gevalle is geregte met vleis goedkoper as nie-vleisetende opsies (die uitsondering is Indiese restaurante). Dit is heeltemal logies dat groente as weggooibare beskou word - 'n nagedagte vir die gemiddelde Amerikaanse smaak - terwyl vleis as 'n belangrike eienskap van ons sent en ons spysvertering beskou word.

Die meeste restaurante se spyskaarte plaas vleis in die hoofgeregte in die lig, sodat daar 'vegetariese' opsies vir minder bloeddorstiges is, wat daartoe kan lei dat mede-eetgenote jou bespot omdat hulle 'n alternatief gekies het wat volgens ons die norm is-en beslis moenie 'n slaai bestel nie, tensy jy jou gat wil laat skop.

Waarom het die eet van hoender, vis, beesvleis of vark die standaard geword eerder as 'n seldsame lekkerny? En is dit moontlik om te veel deel te neem? Met 'n groeiende wêreldwye vleisproduksiebedryf veroorsaak fabrieke nie net die vernietiging van die omgewing nie, maar meer en meer gesondheidsverslae verklaar dat te veel vleis net onnodig is, maar dat dit ook sleg is vir u.

In werklikheid neem die vleisverbruik in die Verenigde State net toe. In 2018 beraam die Amerikaanse departement van landbou dat Amerikaners rekordvleisvleisvlakke bereik het met 'n gemiddelde van 222 pond rooivleis en pluimvee per persoon. Ons weet al langer dat die eet van te veel vleis hoë cholesterol produseer, wat dikwels tot hartsiektes lei, wat jaarliks ​​meer as 600 000 sterftes in die VSA veroorsaak, en tog verbruik Amerikaners steeds vier keer soveel vleis as in enige ander land.

. U verstaan ​​waarom ek begin wonder het of dit moontlik is om afstand te neem van vleisopsies sonder om vreeslik daarna te smag.

En tog het ek al meer as 'n dekade lank desperaat probeer om vegetariër te word om 'n gesonder leefstyl te soek en my koolstofvoetspoor te verminder. Dit was nie maklik tydens gesinsete nie, ouer familielede het dit moeilik gehad om spaghetti sonder gehaktballetjies, habichuelas sonder perniel of kerrie sonder hoender te verstaan. Vyf jaar gelede het my eerste poging om vegetariër te word, slegs nege maande geduur, en ek het in die proses twintig pond opgedoen weens die oorbelasting van koolhidrate. My onwilligheid om groente-gefokusde opsies te ondersoek, het gelei tot bevrore etes en te veel koolhidrate. Ek was nie heeltemal bereid om groente te laat smaak nie - ek het nog nie my vrou ontmoet wat my gou gehelp het om opsies binne my eie kulturele agtergrond te ondersoek nie.

Ons het geleer om saam Indiese kos te kook, 'n kombuis wat 'n verskeidenheid vegetariese geregte bied, van palak paneer (spinasiekerrie met kaasmielies) tot chana masala (kekerertjiekerrie). Puerto Ricaanse en Italiaanse kos het 'n paar uitdagings gebied, maar ons het plaasvervangers gevind vir vleisagtige krammetjies, soos plátanos saam met rys en bone en eiervrug bo -op pasta en tamatiesous. Ontbyt was die maklikste - hawermout het my gevul en energie verskaf om die dag te begin. Middagete word vereenvoudig. Ek het begin om toebroodjies agter te laat vir slaaie, sodat kreatiwiteit meer groente soos aartappels by artisjokke kon meng. Binne maande nadat ek by haar was, het ek gewig verloor en ook minder opgeblase.

Buite die huis word kitskos-junkies-ek ingesluit-al hoe meer oop vir nuwe vleisvervangers wat die mark betree. Dit is moontlik dat ons almal omgewingsbewus word (. Of meer besorg is oor ons eie welstand), of miskien is sommige net nuuskierig hoe hierdie nuwe alternatiewe smaak. Hoe dan ook, 95 persent van die mense wat 'n plant-gebaseerde burger in 2019 gekoop het, was ook vleiseters. Hierdie nuwe, vleislose bedryf groei elke jaar, met 'n algehele groei van 10 persent van die vorige jaar. Groot kettings, waaronder Burger King, bied nou plante-gebaseerde opsies soos die Impossible Whopper aan, wat die moontlikheid van vegetarisme meer toeganklik maak vir die algemene publiek.

Verlede week was ek besig om uit 'n te koel skool te gaan. U weet, die soort plek wat die idee van vryloopgebraaide beeste waardeer om die skuld van hul kliënte te verlig. Tot my verbasing bied hulle 'n tuisgemaakte Impossible Burger aan (maar vertel dit nie aan die koning nie). Ek beskou die nuwe spyskaart as 'n geleentheid om die hype te proe en te besluit of ek werklik 'n vleislose toekoms vir myself kan sien, beide binne en buite my huis. Ek het 'n hap geneem en 'n sponsagtige konsekwentheid verwag, maar tot my verbasing was dit ferm en klam, net soos beesvleis. Na nog 'n paar happies kon ek regtig nie die verskil onderskei nie.

Burgers is natuurlik nie 'n alledaagse maaltyd nie. Sedert die aanvang van die pandemie het ek daarin geslaag om my vleisverbruik aansienlik te beperk en noodwendig weer kreatiewer in die kombuis te word. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.


What I've Learned From 10+ Years Of Trying To Avoid Meat

Growing up in a multiracial household, of Indian, Italian, and Puerto Rican descent, I was raised on tandoori kabobs with my naan, meatballs with my pasta, and pollo with my arroz. Vegetables were only featured on the side offering a facade of nutritional balance. Meat, however, always remained the centerpiece—the main event of each meal. Simply put, meat was the foundation of my diet.

In recent years, I’ve started to resent my dependency on meat. Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja struck a nerve about how my food is being prepared, who’s producing it, and the impersonal stance our society takes on the treatment of animals. I realized how removed I actually was from the animals I was eating and felt a lack of compassion for nature altogether as I fooled myself into separating industrially-farmed animals from those who were allowed to roam free. I began to wonder if I even needed the flesh of an animal in my diet: Would it be possible to go a day without desiring it? How about a week? A month? A year? How about eliminating meat consumption altogether? Is this lifestyle achievable without giving up the flavors I crave?

Until the start of the Industrial Revolution, meat was a luxury for the wealthy and a rare delicacy for the working class in the United States. By the late 1800s, technological advancements sped up production exponentially as U.S. beef exports were totaling nearly 400 million pounds of beef and 671 million pounds of pork. By the turn of the century, meat became a presumed ingredient in the modern world’s daily repast.

Supermarkets and fast food chains have always been equipped to offer us any packaged or prepared livestock we demand. In many cases, dishes featuring meat are cheaper than non-carnivorous options (the exception being Indian restaurants). It makes perfect sense that vegetables have become viewed as disposable—an afterthought for the average American’s palate—while meat has been championed as a substantial feature worth our dime and our digestion.

Most restaurant menu items spotlight meat in its main courses so much so that there are designated “vegetarian” options for less blood-thirsty, which may lead to fellow diners scoffing at you for choosing an alternative to what we perceive is the norm—and definitely don’t order a salad unless you want your ass kicked.

Why has eating chicken, fish, beef or pork become the standard rather than a rare delicacy? And is it possible to partake in too much? With a growing global meat production industry, not only are factories directly causing environmental destruction but more and more health reports are declaring that eating too much meat is only only unnecessary, but that it’s also bad for you.

In fact, meat consumption in the United States only continues to rise. In 2018, the United States Department of Agriculture estimated that Americans hit record meat-eating levels with an average of 222 pounds of red-meat and poultry per person. We’ve known for far longer that eating too much meat produces high-cholesterol which often leads to heart disease, causing over 600,000 deaths in the U.S. each year, and yet Americans still consume four times as much meat than any other country.

. You understand why I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to distance myself from meat options without terribly yearning for them.

And still, I’ve tried desperately to become a vegetarian for more than a decade in order to seek a healthier lifestyle and lower my carbon footprint. It hasn't been easy during family dinners older relatives had a difficult time comprehending spaghetti without meatballs, habichuelas without pernil, or curry without chicken. Five years ago, my first attempt to go full vegetarian only lasted nine months and I gained twenty pounds in the process due to carb overload. My unwillingness to explore vegetable-focused options resulted in frozen dinners and too many carbohydrates. I wasn’t fully prepared to make vegetables actually taste good—I hadn't yet met my wife who soon helped me explore options within my own cultural backgrounds.

We learned to cook Indian food together, a cuisine that offers a variety of vegetarian dishes from palak paneer (spinach curry with cheese curds) to chana masala (chickpea curry). Puerto Rican and Italian food presented some challenges, but we found replacements for meaty staples, like plátanos alongside rice and beans and eggplant on top of pasta and tomato sauce. Breakfast proved easiest—oatmeal filled me up and provided energy to start my day. Lunches became simplified. I began leaving sandwiches behind for salads, allowing creativity to mix in more vegetables like string beans to artichokes. Within months of being with her, I found myself losing weight and feeling less bloated, too.

Outside of the home, fast food junkies—myself included—are becoming more open-minded toward new meat substitutes entering the marketplace. It’s possible all of us are becoming eco-conscious (. or more concerned about our own wellbeing), or perhaps some are just curious what these new alternatives taste like. Either way, 95 percent of people who have purchased a plant-based burger in 2019 were also meat-eaters. This new, meatless industry is growing every year, with a 10 percent overall growth from the previous year. Major chains, including Burger King, are now providing plant-based options like the Impossible Whopper, making the possibility of vegetarianism more accessible to the general public.

Last week, I found myself taking out from a too-cool-for-school establishment. You know, the kind of place that values the idea of free-range fried cattle to ease their customers’ guilt. To my surprise, they were offering an in-house made Impossible Burger (but don’t tell the King). I viewed the new menu option as an opportunity to taste the hype and decide if I could really see a meatless future for myself both in and out of my home. I took a bite expecting a spongy consistency, but to my surprise, it was firm and moist, just like ground beef. After a few more bites, I truly couldn’t tell the difference.

Burgers aren’t an everyday meal for most, of course. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve managed to limit my meat consumption significantly and once again become more creative in the kitchen out of necessity. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.


What I've Learned From 10+ Years Of Trying To Avoid Meat

Growing up in a multiracial household, of Indian, Italian, and Puerto Rican descent, I was raised on tandoori kabobs with my naan, meatballs with my pasta, and pollo with my arroz. Vegetables were only featured on the side offering a facade of nutritional balance. Meat, however, always remained the centerpiece—the main event of each meal. Simply put, meat was the foundation of my diet.

In recent years, I’ve started to resent my dependency on meat. Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja struck a nerve about how my food is being prepared, who’s producing it, and the impersonal stance our society takes on the treatment of animals. I realized how removed I actually was from the animals I was eating and felt a lack of compassion for nature altogether as I fooled myself into separating industrially-farmed animals from those who were allowed to roam free. I began to wonder if I even needed the flesh of an animal in my diet: Would it be possible to go a day without desiring it? How about a week? A month? A year? How about eliminating meat consumption altogether? Is this lifestyle achievable without giving up the flavors I crave?

Until the start of the Industrial Revolution, meat was a luxury for the wealthy and a rare delicacy for the working class in the United States. By the late 1800s, technological advancements sped up production exponentially as U.S. beef exports were totaling nearly 400 million pounds of beef and 671 million pounds of pork. By the turn of the century, meat became a presumed ingredient in the modern world’s daily repast.

Supermarkets and fast food chains have always been equipped to offer us any packaged or prepared livestock we demand. In many cases, dishes featuring meat are cheaper than non-carnivorous options (the exception being Indian restaurants). It makes perfect sense that vegetables have become viewed as disposable—an afterthought for the average American’s palate—while meat has been championed as a substantial feature worth our dime and our digestion.

Most restaurant menu items spotlight meat in its main courses so much so that there are designated “vegetarian” options for less blood-thirsty, which may lead to fellow diners scoffing at you for choosing an alternative to what we perceive is the norm—and definitely don’t order a salad unless you want your ass kicked.

Why has eating chicken, fish, beef or pork become the standard rather than a rare delicacy? And is it possible to partake in too much? With a growing global meat production industry, not only are factories directly causing environmental destruction but more and more health reports are declaring that eating too much meat is only only unnecessary, but that it’s also bad for you.

In fact, meat consumption in the United States only continues to rise. In 2018, the United States Department of Agriculture estimated that Americans hit record meat-eating levels with an average of 222 pounds of red-meat and poultry per person. We’ve known for far longer that eating too much meat produces high-cholesterol which often leads to heart disease, causing over 600,000 deaths in the U.S. each year, and yet Americans still consume four times as much meat than any other country.

. You understand why I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to distance myself from meat options without terribly yearning for them.

And still, I’ve tried desperately to become a vegetarian for more than a decade in order to seek a healthier lifestyle and lower my carbon footprint. It hasn't been easy during family dinners older relatives had a difficult time comprehending spaghetti without meatballs, habichuelas without pernil, or curry without chicken. Five years ago, my first attempt to go full vegetarian only lasted nine months and I gained twenty pounds in the process due to carb overload. My unwillingness to explore vegetable-focused options resulted in frozen dinners and too many carbohydrates. I wasn’t fully prepared to make vegetables actually taste good—I hadn't yet met my wife who soon helped me explore options within my own cultural backgrounds.

We learned to cook Indian food together, a cuisine that offers a variety of vegetarian dishes from palak paneer (spinach curry with cheese curds) to chana masala (chickpea curry). Puerto Rican and Italian food presented some challenges, but we found replacements for meaty staples, like plátanos alongside rice and beans and eggplant on top of pasta and tomato sauce. Breakfast proved easiest—oatmeal filled me up and provided energy to start my day. Lunches became simplified. I began leaving sandwiches behind for salads, allowing creativity to mix in more vegetables like string beans to artichokes. Within months of being with her, I found myself losing weight and feeling less bloated, too.

Outside of the home, fast food junkies—myself included—are becoming more open-minded toward new meat substitutes entering the marketplace. It’s possible all of us are becoming eco-conscious (. or more concerned about our own wellbeing), or perhaps some are just curious what these new alternatives taste like. Either way, 95 percent of people who have purchased a plant-based burger in 2019 were also meat-eaters. This new, meatless industry is growing every year, with a 10 percent overall growth from the previous year. Major chains, including Burger King, are now providing plant-based options like the Impossible Whopper, making the possibility of vegetarianism more accessible to the general public.

Last week, I found myself taking out from a too-cool-for-school establishment. You know, the kind of place that values the idea of free-range fried cattle to ease their customers’ guilt. To my surprise, they were offering an in-house made Impossible Burger (but don’t tell the King). I viewed the new menu option as an opportunity to taste the hype and decide if I could really see a meatless future for myself both in and out of my home. I took a bite expecting a spongy consistency, but to my surprise, it was firm and moist, just like ground beef. After a few more bites, I truly couldn’t tell the difference.

Burgers aren’t an everyday meal for most, of course. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve managed to limit my meat consumption significantly and once again become more creative in the kitchen out of necessity. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.


What I've Learned From 10+ Years Of Trying To Avoid Meat

Growing up in a multiracial household, of Indian, Italian, and Puerto Rican descent, I was raised on tandoori kabobs with my naan, meatballs with my pasta, and pollo with my arroz. Vegetables were only featured on the side offering a facade of nutritional balance. Meat, however, always remained the centerpiece—the main event of each meal. Simply put, meat was the foundation of my diet.

In recent years, I’ve started to resent my dependency on meat. Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja struck a nerve about how my food is being prepared, who’s producing it, and the impersonal stance our society takes on the treatment of animals. I realized how removed I actually was from the animals I was eating and felt a lack of compassion for nature altogether as I fooled myself into separating industrially-farmed animals from those who were allowed to roam free. I began to wonder if I even needed the flesh of an animal in my diet: Would it be possible to go a day without desiring it? How about a week? A month? A year? How about eliminating meat consumption altogether? Is this lifestyle achievable without giving up the flavors I crave?

Until the start of the Industrial Revolution, meat was a luxury for the wealthy and a rare delicacy for the working class in the United States. By the late 1800s, technological advancements sped up production exponentially as U.S. beef exports were totaling nearly 400 million pounds of beef and 671 million pounds of pork. By the turn of the century, meat became a presumed ingredient in the modern world’s daily repast.

Supermarkets and fast food chains have always been equipped to offer us any packaged or prepared livestock we demand. In many cases, dishes featuring meat are cheaper than non-carnivorous options (the exception being Indian restaurants). It makes perfect sense that vegetables have become viewed as disposable—an afterthought for the average American’s palate—while meat has been championed as a substantial feature worth our dime and our digestion.

Most restaurant menu items spotlight meat in its main courses so much so that there are designated “vegetarian” options for less blood-thirsty, which may lead to fellow diners scoffing at you for choosing an alternative to what we perceive is the norm—and definitely don’t order a salad unless you want your ass kicked.

Why has eating chicken, fish, beef or pork become the standard rather than a rare delicacy? And is it possible to partake in too much? With a growing global meat production industry, not only are factories directly causing environmental destruction but more and more health reports are declaring that eating too much meat is only only unnecessary, but that it’s also bad for you.

In fact, meat consumption in the United States only continues to rise. In 2018, the United States Department of Agriculture estimated that Americans hit record meat-eating levels with an average of 222 pounds of red-meat and poultry per person. We’ve known for far longer that eating too much meat produces high-cholesterol which often leads to heart disease, causing over 600,000 deaths in the U.S. each year, and yet Americans still consume four times as much meat than any other country.

. You understand why I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to distance myself from meat options without terribly yearning for them.

And still, I’ve tried desperately to become a vegetarian for more than a decade in order to seek a healthier lifestyle and lower my carbon footprint. It hasn't been easy during family dinners older relatives had a difficult time comprehending spaghetti without meatballs, habichuelas without pernil, or curry without chicken. Five years ago, my first attempt to go full vegetarian only lasted nine months and I gained twenty pounds in the process due to carb overload. My unwillingness to explore vegetable-focused options resulted in frozen dinners and too many carbohydrates. I wasn’t fully prepared to make vegetables actually taste good—I hadn't yet met my wife who soon helped me explore options within my own cultural backgrounds.

We learned to cook Indian food together, a cuisine that offers a variety of vegetarian dishes from palak paneer (spinach curry with cheese curds) to chana masala (chickpea curry). Puerto Rican and Italian food presented some challenges, but we found replacements for meaty staples, like plátanos alongside rice and beans and eggplant on top of pasta and tomato sauce. Breakfast proved easiest—oatmeal filled me up and provided energy to start my day. Lunches became simplified. I began leaving sandwiches behind for salads, allowing creativity to mix in more vegetables like string beans to artichokes. Within months of being with her, I found myself losing weight and feeling less bloated, too.

Outside of the home, fast food junkies—myself included—are becoming more open-minded toward new meat substitutes entering the marketplace. It’s possible all of us are becoming eco-conscious (. or more concerned about our own wellbeing), or perhaps some are just curious what these new alternatives taste like. Either way, 95 percent of people who have purchased a plant-based burger in 2019 were also meat-eaters. This new, meatless industry is growing every year, with a 10 percent overall growth from the previous year. Major chains, including Burger King, are now providing plant-based options like the Impossible Whopper, making the possibility of vegetarianism more accessible to the general public.

Last week, I found myself taking out from a too-cool-for-school establishment. You know, the kind of place that values the idea of free-range fried cattle to ease their customers’ guilt. To my surprise, they were offering an in-house made Impossible Burger (but don’t tell the King). I viewed the new menu option as an opportunity to taste the hype and decide if I could really see a meatless future for myself both in and out of my home. I took a bite expecting a spongy consistency, but to my surprise, it was firm and moist, just like ground beef. After a few more bites, I truly couldn’t tell the difference.

Burgers aren’t an everyday meal for most, of course. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve managed to limit my meat consumption significantly and once again become more creative in the kitchen out of necessity. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.


What I've Learned From 10+ Years Of Trying To Avoid Meat

Growing up in a multiracial household, of Indian, Italian, and Puerto Rican descent, I was raised on tandoori kabobs with my naan, meatballs with my pasta, and pollo with my arroz. Vegetables were only featured on the side offering a facade of nutritional balance. Meat, however, always remained the centerpiece—the main event of each meal. Simply put, meat was the foundation of my diet.

In recent years, I’ve started to resent my dependency on meat. Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja struck a nerve about how my food is being prepared, who’s producing it, and the impersonal stance our society takes on the treatment of animals. I realized how removed I actually was from the animals I was eating and felt a lack of compassion for nature altogether as I fooled myself into separating industrially-farmed animals from those who were allowed to roam free. I began to wonder if I even needed the flesh of an animal in my diet: Would it be possible to go a day without desiring it? How about a week? A month? A year? How about eliminating meat consumption altogether? Is this lifestyle achievable without giving up the flavors I crave?

Until the start of the Industrial Revolution, meat was a luxury for the wealthy and a rare delicacy for the working class in the United States. By the late 1800s, technological advancements sped up production exponentially as U.S. beef exports were totaling nearly 400 million pounds of beef and 671 million pounds of pork. By the turn of the century, meat became a presumed ingredient in the modern world’s daily repast.

Supermarkets and fast food chains have always been equipped to offer us any packaged or prepared livestock we demand. In many cases, dishes featuring meat are cheaper than non-carnivorous options (the exception being Indian restaurants). It makes perfect sense that vegetables have become viewed as disposable—an afterthought for the average American’s palate—while meat has been championed as a substantial feature worth our dime and our digestion.

Most restaurant menu items spotlight meat in its main courses so much so that there are designated “vegetarian” options for less blood-thirsty, which may lead to fellow diners scoffing at you for choosing an alternative to what we perceive is the norm—and definitely don’t order a salad unless you want your ass kicked.

Why has eating chicken, fish, beef or pork become the standard rather than a rare delicacy? And is it possible to partake in too much? With a growing global meat production industry, not only are factories directly causing environmental destruction but more and more health reports are declaring that eating too much meat is only only unnecessary, but that it’s also bad for you.

In fact, meat consumption in the United States only continues to rise. In 2018, the United States Department of Agriculture estimated that Americans hit record meat-eating levels with an average of 222 pounds of red-meat and poultry per person. We’ve known for far longer that eating too much meat produces high-cholesterol which often leads to heart disease, causing over 600,000 deaths in the U.S. each year, and yet Americans still consume four times as much meat than any other country.

. You understand why I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to distance myself from meat options without terribly yearning for them.

And still, I’ve tried desperately to become a vegetarian for more than a decade in order to seek a healthier lifestyle and lower my carbon footprint. It hasn't been easy during family dinners older relatives had a difficult time comprehending spaghetti without meatballs, habichuelas without pernil, or curry without chicken. Five years ago, my first attempt to go full vegetarian only lasted nine months and I gained twenty pounds in the process due to carb overload. My unwillingness to explore vegetable-focused options resulted in frozen dinners and too many carbohydrates. I wasn’t fully prepared to make vegetables actually taste good—I hadn't yet met my wife who soon helped me explore options within my own cultural backgrounds.

We learned to cook Indian food together, a cuisine that offers a variety of vegetarian dishes from palak paneer (spinach curry with cheese curds) to chana masala (chickpea curry). Puerto Rican and Italian food presented some challenges, but we found replacements for meaty staples, like plátanos alongside rice and beans and eggplant on top of pasta and tomato sauce. Breakfast proved easiest—oatmeal filled me up and provided energy to start my day. Lunches became simplified. I began leaving sandwiches behind for salads, allowing creativity to mix in more vegetables like string beans to artichokes. Within months of being with her, I found myself losing weight and feeling less bloated, too.

Outside of the home, fast food junkies—myself included—are becoming more open-minded toward new meat substitutes entering the marketplace. It’s possible all of us are becoming eco-conscious (. or more concerned about our own wellbeing), or perhaps some are just curious what these new alternatives taste like. Either way, 95 percent of people who have purchased a plant-based burger in 2019 were also meat-eaters. This new, meatless industry is growing every year, with a 10 percent overall growth from the previous year. Major chains, including Burger King, are now providing plant-based options like the Impossible Whopper, making the possibility of vegetarianism more accessible to the general public.

Last week, I found myself taking out from a too-cool-for-school establishment. You know, the kind of place that values the idea of free-range fried cattle to ease their customers’ guilt. To my surprise, they were offering an in-house made Impossible Burger (but don’t tell the King). I viewed the new menu option as an opportunity to taste the hype and decide if I could really see a meatless future for myself both in and out of my home. I took a bite expecting a spongy consistency, but to my surprise, it was firm and moist, just like ground beef. After a few more bites, I truly couldn’t tell the difference.

Burgers aren’t an everyday meal for most, of course. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve managed to limit my meat consumption significantly and once again become more creative in the kitchen out of necessity. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.


What I've Learned From 10+ Years Of Trying To Avoid Meat

Growing up in a multiracial household, of Indian, Italian, and Puerto Rican descent, I was raised on tandoori kabobs with my naan, meatballs with my pasta, and pollo with my arroz. Vegetables were only featured on the side offering a facade of nutritional balance. Meat, however, always remained the centerpiece—the main event of each meal. Simply put, meat was the foundation of my diet.

In recent years, I’ve started to resent my dependency on meat. Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja struck a nerve about how my food is being prepared, who’s producing it, and the impersonal stance our society takes on the treatment of animals. I realized how removed I actually was from the animals I was eating and felt a lack of compassion for nature altogether as I fooled myself into separating industrially-farmed animals from those who were allowed to roam free. I began to wonder if I even needed the flesh of an animal in my diet: Would it be possible to go a day without desiring it? How about a week? A month? A year? How about eliminating meat consumption altogether? Is this lifestyle achievable without giving up the flavors I crave?

Until the start of the Industrial Revolution, meat was a luxury for the wealthy and a rare delicacy for the working class in the United States. By the late 1800s, technological advancements sped up production exponentially as U.S. beef exports were totaling nearly 400 million pounds of beef and 671 million pounds of pork. By the turn of the century, meat became a presumed ingredient in the modern world’s daily repast.

Supermarkets and fast food chains have always been equipped to offer us any packaged or prepared livestock we demand. In many cases, dishes featuring meat are cheaper than non-carnivorous options (the exception being Indian restaurants). It makes perfect sense that vegetables have become viewed as disposable—an afterthought for the average American’s palate—while meat has been championed as a substantial feature worth our dime and our digestion.

Most restaurant menu items spotlight meat in its main courses so much so that there are designated “vegetarian” options for less blood-thirsty, which may lead to fellow diners scoffing at you for choosing an alternative to what we perceive is the norm—and definitely don’t order a salad unless you want your ass kicked.

Why has eating chicken, fish, beef or pork become the standard rather than a rare delicacy? And is it possible to partake in too much? With a growing global meat production industry, not only are factories directly causing environmental destruction but more and more health reports are declaring that eating too much meat is only only unnecessary, but that it’s also bad for you.

In fact, meat consumption in the United States only continues to rise. In 2018, the United States Department of Agriculture estimated that Americans hit record meat-eating levels with an average of 222 pounds of red-meat and poultry per person. We’ve known for far longer that eating too much meat produces high-cholesterol which often leads to heart disease, causing over 600,000 deaths in the U.S. each year, and yet Americans still consume four times as much meat than any other country.

. You understand why I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to distance myself from meat options without terribly yearning for them.

And still, I’ve tried desperately to become a vegetarian for more than a decade in order to seek a healthier lifestyle and lower my carbon footprint. It hasn't been easy during family dinners older relatives had a difficult time comprehending spaghetti without meatballs, habichuelas without pernil, or curry without chicken. Five years ago, my first attempt to go full vegetarian only lasted nine months and I gained twenty pounds in the process due to carb overload. My unwillingness to explore vegetable-focused options resulted in frozen dinners and too many carbohydrates. I wasn’t fully prepared to make vegetables actually taste good—I hadn't yet met my wife who soon helped me explore options within my own cultural backgrounds.

We learned to cook Indian food together, a cuisine that offers a variety of vegetarian dishes from palak paneer (spinach curry with cheese curds) to chana masala (chickpea curry). Puerto Rican and Italian food presented some challenges, but we found replacements for meaty staples, like plátanos alongside rice and beans and eggplant on top of pasta and tomato sauce. Breakfast proved easiest—oatmeal filled me up and provided energy to start my day. Lunches became simplified. I began leaving sandwiches behind for salads, allowing creativity to mix in more vegetables like string beans to artichokes. Within months of being with her, I found myself losing weight and feeling less bloated, too.

Outside of the home, fast food junkies—myself included—are becoming more open-minded toward new meat substitutes entering the marketplace. It’s possible all of us are becoming eco-conscious (. or more concerned about our own wellbeing), or perhaps some are just curious what these new alternatives taste like. Either way, 95 percent of people who have purchased a plant-based burger in 2019 were also meat-eaters. This new, meatless industry is growing every year, with a 10 percent overall growth from the previous year. Major chains, including Burger King, are now providing plant-based options like the Impossible Whopper, making the possibility of vegetarianism more accessible to the general public.

Last week, I found myself taking out from a too-cool-for-school establishment. You know, the kind of place that values the idea of free-range fried cattle to ease their customers’ guilt. To my surprise, they were offering an in-house made Impossible Burger (but don’t tell the King). I viewed the new menu option as an opportunity to taste the hype and decide if I could really see a meatless future for myself both in and out of my home. I took a bite expecting a spongy consistency, but to my surprise, it was firm and moist, just like ground beef. After a few more bites, I truly couldn’t tell the difference.

Burgers aren’t an everyday meal for most, of course. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve managed to limit my meat consumption significantly and once again become more creative in the kitchen out of necessity. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.


What I've Learned From 10+ Years Of Trying To Avoid Meat

Growing up in a multiracial household, of Indian, Italian, and Puerto Rican descent, I was raised on tandoori kabobs with my naan, meatballs with my pasta, and pollo with my arroz. Vegetables were only featured on the side offering a facade of nutritional balance. Meat, however, always remained the centerpiece—the main event of each meal. Simply put, meat was the foundation of my diet.

In recent years, I’ve started to resent my dependency on meat. Watching Bong Joon-ho’s 2017 film Okja struck a nerve about how my food is being prepared, who’s producing it, and the impersonal stance our society takes on the treatment of animals. I realized how removed I actually was from the animals I was eating and felt a lack of compassion for nature altogether as I fooled myself into separating industrially-farmed animals from those who were allowed to roam free. I began to wonder if I even needed the flesh of an animal in my diet: Would it be possible to go a day without desiring it? How about a week? A month? A year? How about eliminating meat consumption altogether? Is this lifestyle achievable without giving up the flavors I crave?

Until the start of the Industrial Revolution, meat was a luxury for the wealthy and a rare delicacy for the working class in the United States. By the late 1800s, technological advancements sped up production exponentially as U.S. beef exports were totaling nearly 400 million pounds of beef and 671 million pounds of pork. By the turn of the century, meat became a presumed ingredient in the modern world’s daily repast.

Supermarkets and fast food chains have always been equipped to offer us any packaged or prepared livestock we demand. In many cases, dishes featuring meat are cheaper than non-carnivorous options (the exception being Indian restaurants). It makes perfect sense that vegetables have become viewed as disposable—an afterthought for the average American’s palate—while meat has been championed as a substantial feature worth our dime and our digestion.

Most restaurant menu items spotlight meat in its main courses so much so that there are designated “vegetarian” options for less blood-thirsty, which may lead to fellow diners scoffing at you for choosing an alternative to what we perceive is the norm—and definitely don’t order a salad unless you want your ass kicked.

Why has eating chicken, fish, beef or pork become the standard rather than a rare delicacy? And is it possible to partake in too much? With a growing global meat production industry, not only are factories directly causing environmental destruction but more and more health reports are declaring that eating too much meat is only only unnecessary, but that it’s also bad for you.

In fact, meat consumption in the United States only continues to rise. In 2018, the United States Department of Agriculture estimated that Americans hit record meat-eating levels with an average of 222 pounds of red-meat and poultry per person. We’ve known for far longer that eating too much meat produces high-cholesterol which often leads to heart disease, causing over 600,000 deaths in the U.S. each year, and yet Americans still consume four times as much meat than any other country.

. You understand why I’ve started to wonder if it’s even possible to distance myself from meat options without terribly yearning for them.

And still, I’ve tried desperately to become a vegetarian for more than a decade in order to seek a healthier lifestyle and lower my carbon footprint. It hasn't been easy during family dinners older relatives had a difficult time comprehending spaghetti without meatballs, habichuelas without pernil, or curry without chicken. Five years ago, my first attempt to go full vegetarian only lasted nine months and I gained twenty pounds in the process due to carb overload. My unwillingness to explore vegetable-focused options resulted in frozen dinners and too many carbohydrates. I wasn’t fully prepared to make vegetables actually taste good—I hadn't yet met my wife who soon helped me explore options within my own cultural backgrounds.

We learned to cook Indian food together, a cuisine that offers a variety of vegetarian dishes from palak paneer (spinach curry with cheese curds) to chana masala (chickpea curry). Puerto Rican and Italian food presented some challenges, but we found replacements for meaty staples, like plátanos alongside rice and beans and eggplant on top of pasta and tomato sauce. Breakfast proved easiest—oatmeal filled me up and provided energy to start my day. Lunches became simplified. I began leaving sandwiches behind for salads, allowing creativity to mix in more vegetables like string beans to artichokes. Within months of being with her, I found myself losing weight and feeling less bloated, too.

Outside of the home, fast food junkies—myself included—are becoming more open-minded toward new meat substitutes entering the marketplace. It’s possible all of us are becoming eco-conscious (. or more concerned about our own wellbeing), or perhaps some are just curious what these new alternatives taste like. Either way, 95 percent of people who have purchased a plant-based burger in 2019 were also meat-eaters. This new, meatless industry is growing every year, with a 10 percent overall growth from the previous year. Major chains, including Burger King, are now providing plant-based options like the Impossible Whopper, making the possibility of vegetarianism more accessible to the general public.

Last week, I found myself taking out from a too-cool-for-school establishment. You know, the kind of place that values the idea of free-range fried cattle to ease their customers’ guilt. To my surprise, they were offering an in-house made Impossible Burger (but don’t tell the King). I viewed the new menu option as an opportunity to taste the hype and decide if I could really see a meatless future for myself both in and out of my home. I took a bite expecting a spongy consistency, but to my surprise, it was firm and moist, just like ground beef. After a few more bites, I truly couldn’t tell the difference.

Burgers aren’t an everyday meal for most, of course. Since the start of the pandemic, I’ve managed to limit my meat consumption significantly and once again become more creative in the kitchen out of necessity. I’ve discovered rich filling alternatives (see: cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, squash, and mushrooms), all of which easily fit into almost any cultural cuisine, whether it be a stir fry, a curry, a pie or a dish worthy of a barbecue. My wife and I have encouraged one another to experiment with new recipes and our limits have been pushed farther as a result. Last night, we attempted a homemade black bean burger. It was a little dense, sure, but it was also delicious and full of protein and fiber.