My heavenly food father, who art Anthony Bourdain, please forgive me for what I am about to do.

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I'm going to try to go veg.
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There. I said it.
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I'm going to try to go veg. . Yeah, saying it twice makes me much less certain about my success.

This isn't a new idea for me. I'm not just happily jumping on the great vegetarian bandwagon that seems to be crossing this country. If you want to know the truth, going vegetarian for me feels less like jumping on a party bus and more like winding up with the Donner party. (Yeah, that simile makes no sense at all, but it was the feeling I was going after. Just roll with it.)

I've pondered it for years, but I'm too much of a food lover to want to give up meat. I love making stock from Thanksgiving turkey carcasses. The smell of a pork roast in the oven with onions and apples can bring tears of joy to my eyes. A medium-rare NY strip steak on my plate is an aphrodisiac. Prosciutto wrapped cantaloupe. Rosemary roasted lamb. Ground beef chimichangas. Hell, a club sandwich from subway. Bacon.

Yes, I love meat. My family loves meat. For a long time, that was enough to keep me from trying vegetarianism. I justified my reticence by claiming that eating vegetables while the rest of my family gloried in the joys of meats, stocks, gravies, gelatin was just too difficult; to force my vegetarianism on them would be unfair.

But I've also been in the Anthony Bourdain camp for a long time. There are so many wonderful foods on this earth, and I am here for a very short time. I want to eat them! And vegetarianism is predominantly a post-industrial phenomenon that often ignores the needs of developing countries.

But times, they are a-changing. The older I get, the more political everything becomes, including food. There are, of course, the various ethics of vegetarianism including but not limited to animal rights and environmental protection. And there are also health reasons.

Look, I grew up in an upstate New York farm community. My earliest years were spent on farms. And one of my most traumatic memories involves being chased by a headless chicken with blood spurting out of its neck (more family legend than an actual memory). Animals had a distinct use value for me. They were labor and food and on rare occasions companions. They still are all those things for me. But what I've begun to realize is that I am no longer a farm person. There increasing distance between my acknowledgment of the labor that goes into producing my food and the value I get from eating it. And this is why I want to try vegetarianism.

I'm not against meat. Right now, I'm dreaming of pork gyoza (thanks a lot, Jenna). I'm not against farming or animals used for food. From what I saw of farms growing up, most animals on farms are very well cared for and attended to and, in some cases, even loved. But I'm no longer a farmer anymore. I have my little garden and container gardens. I get a great sense of pride from eating pesto made from the basil I cultivated in a pot on my patio. Gardening makes vegetables and fruits much more comprehensible to me. But if it came to chopping a head off of a chicken, well, if I was starving it wouldn't be a problem. But I'm not. In fact, like the majority of Americans, I'm at the other end of that extreme. Food is too easy to come by and too plentiful. As I walk through the grocery store loading my cart with boneless skinless chicken breasts, cleaned and bloodless, and wrapped in shiny plastic, I have to admit that I do not give a single thought to where that food came from or how it got into my grocery bag. And that bothers me.

I have to admit that while I do find many arguments for vegetarianism offensive to developing countries, rural people, and farmers, I find it more offensive that I can't appreciate the labor that goes into putting meat on my plate. And according to Worldwatch Institute, "Massive reductions in meat consumption in industrial nations will ease their healthcare burden while improving public health; declining livestock herds will take pressure off range-lands and grain-lands, allowing the agricultural resource base to rejuvenate. As populations grow, lowering meat consumption worldwide will allow more efficient use of declining per capita land and water resources, while at the same time making grain more affordable to the world's chronically hungry." Of course, Worldwatch Institute doesn't negotiate the occupational retraining of farmers, farmhands, and migrant workers that this plan would force. Nor do they mention what they would do with vast swaths of unused, undeveloped land or who would protect these lands while they "rejuvenate." Nor do they mention who would pay property taxes on said lands or who would protect them from becoming the next strip mall. Nor do they explain how land is being inefficiently used currently. But it sure does sound good, doesn't it.

In spite of all my critiques of the Worldwatch Institute, I still have to admit that I think the basic idea is good in theory if not in practice; I'm going to have a go at jumping the theory/practice chasm. Having been a meat-eater for as long as I can remember, I anticipate this is going to be painful for me. Statler has agreed to try it with me. I'm sure she'll post her own blog justifying her reasons for doing so. But we're going to share our pain with you here on this blog so you can either sympathize with us or laugh at us. Either way, I'm okay with it.

For the record, I'm going ovo-lacto vegetarian. The most common type of vegetarianism that still eats dairy and eggs. It seems to be the most accommodating type for my lifestyle (and animal hormone dependency). And I will probably indulge in meat in the coming weeks; I do not anticipate going cold-turkey (pardon the bad pun). But I'm eager for the challenge. I feel better when I eat more fruits and vegetables, and the pleasure of trying new recipes is something I look forward to.

But I still have to send out my apologies to my food idols Anthony Bourdain (the man who can butcher a pig in his sleep), and Andrew Zimmern (the pork-loving New York Jewish guy). What can I say, gentlemen? I can't ignore the politics of the food-table.