(HOST) The old question – “What’ll we have for supper?” has taken on new meaning lately, and left commentator Edith Hunter without much of an appetite.
(HUNTER) I recently read two books on eating, The Ominvore’s Dilemma; A Natural History of Four Meals, by Michael Pollan, and The Way We Eat, Why Our Food Choices Matter, by Peter Singer and Jim Mason.
After completing my reading, I didn’t really feel comfortable eating much of anything. Both books deal with the dreadful ways that commercial beef, pork, and chickens are raised, slaughtered and delivered to us consumers.
They described the awful conditions under which most eggs are produced. My feeling of satisfaction because at least my own chickens produce the eggs I eat, was destroyed when I learned that although I raise my chickens from day-old chicks that I buy, the baby roosters born at the same time, are systematically destroyed right after birth. Only future laying hens are wanted.
Both books outlined the amount of fossil fuels consumed and the amount of carbon dioxide produced in the production and delivery of animal products. But this is also true of fruits and vegetables from the four corners of the world. Authors Singer and Mason do a particularly upsetting job by even finding flaws in the “eat locally” movement.
I was reminded of dialogues I had in seminary with Reinhold Niebuhr. I was a pacifist and it was the time of the Second World War. He compared what I was doing with an attempt to find the essence of an onion. You perfectionists, he said, are trying to peel away all the layers of evil so that just what is pure is left. But if you peel and peel away all the layers, there is nothing left. Better, he argued, using his favorite terminology, to accept the sinful nature of man. We cannot act without doing harm somewhere.
And it would seem that we cannot eat without inflicting pain and injuring the environment. Authors Singer and Mason deal with fish farms and the many shortcomings in the way salmon and shrimp are raised. They wonder whether oysters and scallops feel pain.
This brought back a vivid memory. My husband’s parents had brought three lobsters from the market. They were alive, and my nature-loving five year old daughter had them placed on the kitchen floor where she could watch them. At the same time the kettle was boiling away on the kitchen stove. In a few minutes, her Dad picked up the lobsters and dropped them into the boiling water. A very upset five-year old watched, in horror. I did not very much enjoy that lobster dinner
And I didn’t have much appetite after I read these two books either. But I have to admit they gave me more than enough food for thought.
Writer and historian Edith Hunter lives in Weathersfield Center.