My Last Steak
Dinner out meant steak or seafood. I chose steak. A ribeye, I'm fairly sure. I can't say that slab of well-done meat looked pretty on my plate. A charred measure of brown and black against the backdrop of overcooked broccoli and a microwaved potato. The smell, though, like fried butter, evoked backyard parties. Communion. Family night. Sometimes still, the scent wafts into memory, taking me back to a time when steak meant steak, not cow. I miss that.
And the taste? Something like sweet smoke, but with substance. A little chewy, but no blood. A tradeoff. Slicing away my third, maybe fourth bite, a thin string recoiled like a friendly snake caught by surprise. I put my fork and knife to work, attempting to bypass the offending reminder of life. A fruitless attempt.
Jeff, a little distracted by my shift from eating to disecting, offered comfort. “It's probably just a vein. You know, a blood vessel. Or a tendon. Just eat around it.”
A vein. A tendon. He said that out loud. I placed my fork, still warm from its foray into cow flesh, in a discarded napkin. I asked the waitress for a clean one and finished off my potato in silence.
As a failed vegetarian, I enjoyed reading this journal entry. I like how you captured this pivotal moment in time which inspired a significant life change. Instead of using the journal entry as a soapbox for vegetarianism, you really paint a vivid picture of when you became a vegetarian, which I think is really key and awesome. I really like how you mention the nostalgia that the smell of steak invokes even though it's your last. Food and community is a universal theme that everyone is interested in, and I think a lot of people can relate to family nights and backyard parties. Mentioning this nostalgia lends authenticity to your last steak and avoids being preachy. If you end up expanding this or using it somewhere else, it would be great to know if you had been thinking about becoming a vegetarian before this, or if you had encountered any other negative experiences with meat. Also, it would be interesting to hear of any struggles, inconveniences, or criticism you encountered as a result of your choice. I was curious who Jeff is and even more curious about his response to your decision; maybe you could work in some dialogue. I had a crazy difficult time staying a vegetarian, so I admire your discipline! Last thing: I really like the subtle detail at the end, “I asked the waitress for a clean one [fork]...” - it signifies a new mindset and fresh start.
ReplyDeleteThis is a lovely rendered (excuse that verb) scene, Pam. The question now is what you will connect to it. Remember, whatever it is, it can only be tangentially related to vegetarianism. Obviously, for a vegetarian, meat may evoke these feelings. What if, for example, this essay isn't about that, though. What if the next scene takes us back to one of those earlier memories? You have invited them into this already, so follow up. The idea with writing is to allow it to surprise you. Follow stray and tangentially related subjects, simply to see how they might affect what you have already written. And keep this in the back of your head: whatever happens to this bit of strong writing, it will not ultimately be in service of an essay about my decision to stop eating meat. Surprise yourself. Look for the uncanny connection.
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