Here’s a story:
Long ago when we were wild young things, my husband and I went travelling in Peru. One evening, we were eating dinner in a restaurant on the shores of Lake Titicaca. It sounds rather more exotic than it was. We were with a group of travellers that we’d fallen in with. We ordered the fish, as almost everyone did, with the promise that it was fresh-caught daily. We were all served identical-looking plates, with a breaded slice of something on it. Craig took a bite of his food and a weird look flitted across his face.“Taste this,” he said. So I did. It tasted like chicken.“Is that chicken?” he said. I said I thought it was. He grimaced and put down his knife and fork.
Continue reading “The Lapsed Vegetarians”