A Foodie’s Moral Dilemma

Sarah Murphy
Sep 7, 2018 · 5 min read
Photo by: Sarah Murphy

“Foodie” is one those newfangled words that describes a person who loves all aspects of food. These are people who enjoy the cultural connections or social practices that food brings; or it can refer to someone who revels in the joy that comes from what tastes wonderful. I am one of those people.

Food is my connection to my ancestry, the cultural diversity of the world that I have never seen first hand, and I use it as an artistic medium; yes, good food is art.

But with the growing influence of vegan culture in America there is a knot of guilt I get in my stomach from going caveman on a bloody rare lamb chop, or drooling over the bacon cheeseburger that’s oozing cheddar at the table next to me.

So, for a person who loves food from all across the board, but understands the horrible practices that are inflicted on commercial farms, it is difficult to morally feel like it’s ok to eat extra crispy bacon for breakfast. There are milliseconds, right before I nibble on the burnt edge, when clips from Netflix’s Food Inc. flash before my eyes and I remember how revolted I was, and how I don’t want to be another link in this chain; then I bite and the thought goes back into my subconscious, replaced by the fatty, salty goodness.

But it’s still back there, ready to pop out when I smell ribs in the air on Sunday afternoon.

For the last five years I have worked at juice bars that specialize in vegan cuisine, and I love everything about it. I’ve done the week long juice cleanses, detox vegan diets, and I primarily live a vegetarian lifestyle because of my involvement in the vegan scene. It’s amazing how so many different dishes can be created just from using fruits, veggies, and plant based products. Also, how the progression of global communication has allowed for the exchange of recipes and ideas world wide.

Photo by: Sarah Murphy

But, it’s difficult to talk about my best mac and cheese, or the perfectly whipped cream cheese frosting I made to guild Grandma’s carrot cake, with my vegan coworkers who see my food practices as deplorable.

Typically, these conversations include sentiments similar to this:

“That’s nice, but you do know,” they generally start out, “that cows are pumped full of hormones their entire lives, and kept in pens so small they can’t turn around so they can continue to produce milk that humans shouldn’t even be consuming just to line corporate pockets with blood money, right?”

“Why, yes in fact I did know that,” I may say, with my eyes toward the ground.

“But yeah Sarah, your mac and cheese sounds awesome.”

But it’s all just so damn good.

So how do I come to terms with this ultimate battle of animal cruelty, and the emotional impact that all food has had on my life?

If I had it my way and money wasn’t an issue, I would buy every single food product that sits in the pantry or fridge from a local, organic, family-owned source. I would buy rough, multi-colored eggs from daisy-ladened wagons on the side of the road, and I would go to the portly, neighborhood butcher and pick out the pasture raised pig that lived a happy life, and stop at the countryside dairy to buy fresh butter and cheese by the pound. But all of this isn’t reality.

As much as I want to support my local community, and pay the premium price that they should rightfully charge for their beautiful products, I just can’t wing it as a lowly college student living paycheck to paycheck. Working full-time and going to school full-time takes time. Not to mention the gas I can’t afford to drive all over kingdom come looking for the cute little girl selling eggs on who knows what road, or take time off work to go to the Farmer’s markets in the morning.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t put in the extra effort when I have the time, or extra funds to use as I please. But, it certainly isn’t often enough for me to say that I don’t support commercial meat and dairy businesses.

Photo by: Sarah Murphy

And the guilt sets in again.

In a movie called Burnt, Bradley Cooper plays a Michelin star chef, and this disturbing but insightful phrase he said always comes to mind when coworkers ask why I won’t commit to a vegan diet.

“A chef should strive to be consistent in experience, but not consistent in taste. It’s like sex. It’s like, you’re always headed to the same place, but you got to find a new and dangerous way of getting there.”

To me, eating strictly a vegan diet just isn’t very exciting, or dangerous. It ends up boring me when I eat it for an extended period of time. Food is my passion, and I feel excluded from my alter ego when I go vegan.

A commitment to veganism is a difficult challenge for me face. I question how the awareness of my moral decisions define me as a person, and how I am viewed by others because of it. I want to be that person who can overcome selfish desires for the benefit of another; but I am a weak human, and cheese is sexy.

So for now, I’ll continue to grapple with my moral integrity as I make Sunday’s spaghetti and meatballs.

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