The Meat of Mockery

Mockery, according to the dictionary---an oft-quoted source of authority---is derision or ridicule. Its verb form is "to mock" but at times this word is pressed into a form that resembles an adjective, as in mock battle, or mock chicken. Here it implies an imitation without intention to deceive.

Despite this, vegetarians, who are most often on the defensive for taking a stand against the basic human predilection of eating quite dead animals---since eating live critters is quite typically a revulsion---use the term for various wild concoctions of dubious vegetable matter pressed into forms resembling the flesh of barnyard creatures such as chickens, turkeys, bovines, and perhaps ducks. Perhaps they are secretly craving the very meat that they espouse when they go to such great lengths to make mock chicken, mock turkey, mock ham and perhaps mock duck. Deep down they're probably eager to taste some greasy fried chicken, but since they've taken an oath in their hearts, they have no choice but to summon a sensory surrogate to the dinner table. As long as this is done in private, or amongst their own kind, I suppose there is no harm in doing so.

But what does a red-blooded Real Meat Eater do in retaliation? What do the gallant carnivores of our species do to balance this unnatural act that seemingly ignores the long history of hairy caveman hunters that we've been told is our true heritage? What can a Meat Monger do to avoid incessant nagging from those who think veggies are good for them?

Meat-eaters need to follow the footsteps of the vegetarians. They need help from the venerable food scientist, masters of modified food starch and permuted proteins, the backbone of Fast Food for the Masses, the servants to the kings of corporate kitchens. These meat eaters most certainly need mock spinach, mock rutabagas, mock beets, mock turnips and even mock Brussels sprouts. Yes, yes, especially Brussels sprouts, that detestable vegetable which somehow never can be made to resemble anything remotely suggesting a nourishing, palatable food. (Not that rutabagas are immune to this same stinking syndrome, mind you.)

(Note that those are rather lumpy foods, so we'll let the scientists start there, but their ultimate challenge will be mock alfalfa sprouts. Practice makes perfect.)

All of our new mock veggies must, of course, be made from animal products. But can muscle meats be modified, colored, textured and shaped to deceive the eye into believing that it is a bit of slimy sickly green spinach? Can a T-Bone be made into a string bean? Or a sow's ear into those alfalfa sprouts (I'm passing on valuable hints, I fear.) Well, perhaps not. Our molecule modifiers must turn to the meat byproducts that nowadays end up as gourmet cat or alligator food. (Or even food for cattle---cattle eat cattle, the ultimate sacrifice for Man.) There are parts of animals that cats seem to enjoy but which can never be displayed in your upscale deli cooler, and these are surely sources of raw materials that could well be coerced into playing the role of Rutabaga Royale or stir-fried winged beans. And you never need to know from where it came, as long as you are assured that it is from a dead animal and is mockery in perfection. Pass the pink Brussels Sprouts, please, hmm, nice color---may I have the recipe?.

Nota Bene: Raymond Weisling was, in fact, a vegetarian for seven years and credits his general good health to consumption of copious fruits and vegetables, and with just a little meat sprinkled over the veggies now and then---as well a good sense of humor from poking fun at the flesh feasters of the world.