Recently, O and I took my mom, a longtime environmentalist who recycled way before it was “cool”, to see an IMAX all about baby polar bears being eaten by grown men polar bears.
That’s what I thought it was about, at least.
O seemed to think it was about the melting of the polar ice caps and the destruction of an entire ecosystem and boring stuff like that, so he got riled up after the film and declared we are going to fix it. He really said, “I mean, what can we do to fix this?”
I’ve been vegetarian or vegan on and off for nearly fifteen years now, though I can never seem to make it stick. After about a year of being a super perfect vegetarian, I start obsessing about a perfectly seared, thick filet mignon drenched in butter, stuffed with homemade boursin. It’s like this, but with meat:
It weighs on me heavily until I cave; I simply cannot forget about the impossibly tender, juicy hunk of meat revolving before my eyes. And then there’s just no going back, until a few months, maybe a year, maybe a few years later, when I decide to give up meat again. This, dear readers, is what we call a vicious cycle. Refer to www.babewalker.com for more #whitegirlproblems.
The point is, O wanted to fix the environmental crisis, but I pretty easily convinced him we ought to just try to not add to it. I casually mentioned eating less red meat, and his eyes got big with the prospect of having to validate his conflicting desire to slow down the drowning of coastal cities and his other, quite strong desire to eat steak when he wants.
And so we had the methane gas talk. O had no idea what I was even talking about, and I, feeling particularly ladylike that day, tried several times to explain the issue without outright saying “cow farts”. Then I remembered O is in no way subtle and outright said “cow farts”. We were on the way to lunch at the time, and he went on to order a steak burrito, but agreed to eat less meat in general from now on.
This was a killer dish to start with–the tofu is marinated in a perfectly savory combination of ginger, garlic, and miso paste and quickly pan-fried over high heat. The broth is light but flavorful and feels comforting; the noodles give you that oomph of carbs that’s so devilishly appealing. The bok choy, a favorite of mine, is not a favorite of O’s. It’s a more “advanced” vegetable, one might say, and O is still working on genuinely loving things that grow from the ground, instead of in cardboard boxes with glossy pictures on the front. If you or yours is a veg neophyte, try sliced napa cabbage or even spinach, in place of the bok choy.