You are what you eat... moo...
Eating is a pleasure in Brisbane. If you like steak.
I am still reeling from the experience of the "hearty" vegetable soup in IKEA. Now, your definition of "hearty" might differ from mine, but I doubt there's any way it includes chicken. Not just chicken bouillon (which is no surprise -- even carrot soup is made on chicken bouillon), chunks of chicken.
The concept of vegetarianism has not taken root very widely here. No one would make vegetable soup with chicken in London. Mind you, if this was London, it would be pissing down and I'd be hawking up black spit, so don't think I'm complaining. But this is a place where potato salad comes with ham and Pizza Hut warns you that although they take care, your veggie supreme pizza might come with pieces of meat.
What the fuck? How little care is that?
But the steaks are good, Mrs Zen says. They are worldbeaters, the cows fed on grass because there's plenty of it, green grass making sweet steak. But no Quorn, much to her chagrin (because now we eat tofu more often than a Chinaman). What can you do with a country that can grow cows but finds fungus hard to master?
I try not to care too much about what goes into my food. You can go crazy with it. One of my sisters is a hardcore veggie, she won't touch biscuits that she suspects were made with animal fat (I just don't read the label) and she wears vegetarian shoes. Vegetarian shoes! Man! This side of nuclear winter, I'm not even planning to eat any shoes.
posted by Dr Zen @ 8:03 pm
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