A good question to ask of life is: Where does the meat come from? In the case of the K-town boshintang-jip, it's hard to say. Any illegal business must operate under radar just to exist, which means they are unregulated, which makes things far more dangerous than they need to be. Who knows how many hits of acid are really on that little tab of paper? Who knows if that prostitute has AIDS? Who knows where the dogmeat comes from? It's not like they ran down to Vons and asked the butcher for a few pounds of ground hound.
So I did a little research and ran across some hysterical (as in freaking out) articles on the Internet. Apparently, there are freelancers called "bunchers" who are in the business of trafficking illegal dogmeat. These guys go around and pick up Free-To-A-Good-Homers and bring them to restaurants. I also read about kennels where bitches are kept perpetually pregnant and the offspring are eaten. Maybe this is true. I expect some of it is. So where does the meat come from and does it matter? Does a USDA or FDA sticker on my beef really mean anything? Because I purchase meat at Vons and not on a streetcorner shouldn't do anything to ease my mind, but it does somewhat, I admit. The thought of men corralling dogs in the night and killing them and dumping them off in burlap bags makes me queasy. This meat is going in my body?
The most shocking thing of all was something I had completely forgotten about: the adrenaline factor. I used to live above a "stamina foods" restaurant in Pusan, and while I never did witness this firsthand, the teachers who were leaving town when I arrived told me they used to hear Mr. Yi beating his dogs to death down below. The prevailing view is that a last-minute surge of adrenaline makes the meat tastier, so these animals are often brutally tortured before they are butchered and eaten. In China I heard stories of cats being put into bags and smashed against things. I've heard of animals being blowtorched (before and after death), animals being drowned, animals being electrocuted.
That is all.
I have switched over to salads and fruit and soy products now. I am reading that polar-bear-looking dude--Dr. Weil--these days, and exercising regularly. I am drinking lots of water and lots of green tea and thinking about where the meat comes from.
7 comments:
I became a vegetarian back in about 1990 or so. It lasted for almost a year. However, I went on a trip down to Mexico-lindo doing AH exhibitions with Robbins. By about hour 36 or so of eating vegetables rinsed off by the "fine" tap-water, I was experiencing some pretty severe intestinal "difficulties." I then realized that if I were to survive for 2 weeks, I would have to eat nothing but near-burnt flesh and drink bottled water.
By the way, I will not be satisfied unless you get some "t
Goodness! Darn computer submitted before I was done. Anyhow, I was saying...
I will not be satisfied unless you get some "take-out" and have it analyzed in a crime lab :)
I love Dr. Weil! And I was encouraged by the scene at yesterday's Saturday market: not only can one get lamb directly from the ranchers (and it's "organic" too) but now there is an organic beef seller. And it is cheap by health food grocery store standards. So if you buy it at the SM then you know where it comes from right? I hope so.
(Why is the idea of a dog being killed so much more disturbing than a cow?) Hmm.
Once you start thinking along the "where did it come from?" line, your life can never be easy again. Seriously. It never stops. This is not, by the way, an endorsement of blithe ignorance
--just a statement of the facts as I see 'em.
"Eat lower on the food chain" is my motto.
A few years back a friend from China took me to a local restaurant that had mysterious items listed on the menu with no translation (while providing translation for less-problematic meats). One item was for crocodile foot (which I don't know if it is illegal since both crocodiles and allegators are no longer endangered species) but he assured me that they would never ever serve this to a non-Chinese. He was quite direct in his ordering of the crocodile paw, I would say almost insulting and the waiters seemed a little bit cowed by him. It is no doubt because he is from the scholarly class. In any case our crocodile paw was served up and tasted exactly like one might think crocodile paw might taste: swamp.
How I wish that there were a scholarly class here in the States and that I were a member of it! I would walk into the 7-11 and the long line of 6am beer purchasers and Lotto addicts would part, whispering reverently, "Let him pass, he is on the way to the university!" It seems that too much education is looked upon with mistrust here in the US (certainly in SoCal).
Yes, now that you mention it. Not a single person expressed reverence of any kind during my visit to L.A.
Post a Comment