Meat substitutes somehow feel like cheating. We're saying to ourselves that these are the textures and flavors that we must have to feel satisfied. I'm not preaching here, just observing. I use these meat analogues a lot. Tofurkey sausages, TVP in chili or pasta sauce, and what is seitan if not a texture stand-in for flesh. What I'm saying is that every time I do use them it gives me an uneasy feeling of triumph like getting an extra 20 from an ATM, a pleasure but a guilty sneaky one.
Well nobody ever accused me of soft-pedaling my self-analysis.
What makes this situation bearable for me (as I must keep reminding myself) is that I am not an ethical vegan. Although I have an immense distaste for the methods of factory farming, I am not opposed nor disgusted by the eating of flesh. So I am a bit bemused by my own perversely honorable standards kicking in.
And it's not as if I have the same problems with non-dairy cheese. I'm perfectly happy to make a grilled cheese sandwich with soy-based pepper jack. Sometimes I confuse myself.
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