As you may have noticed, reader, in my post about mom and dad – we don’t eat any meat. As you probably know from having read and learned about religions other than your own, vegetarianism is not mandated in my religion. It is in some practices of Buddhism and in some ranks.

I don’t eat it because it’s expensive, unethically sourced in almost every cultivation of it, and has consequences in health and fitness.  I also don’t eat it because to me, it tastes terrible.

Mom cultivates soy beans in her garden. Soy beans, through a intricate process, because tofu. One cultivates the beans, soaks them over night, and blends them into a thick goo. Combine this with water, and boils on a slow simmer for ten minutes. Strains the soybean milk through cheesecloth. Heat the soybean milk, pour in coagulant (I use tamarind tea but, there are options of course), and stir until curdling. Pour the tofu into a mold through cheesecloth. Press. Wait.

This is an easy, albeit time-consuming process. Once you’ve done it every weekend for a few months, it’s zen-like.

There is literally no longer any reason for me to contribute to the disrespectful slaughter of animals solely for the means of human advancement. I am not sure humans need to continue to advance – not any more than these animals do. Eating their flesh to display my dominance when tofu and beans are readily available alternatives is a disgusting notion.