Ah, chicken. It’s Sunday, and I’ve had chicken. Not just some flimsy piece of battery reared sponge in a ’service’ station sadwich, this free range chap had sturdy athlete’s legs and a flavour thanks to 40 years of painstaking recipe development, the latter half of which I’ve been absent from, or at least oblivious to (cooked by my father, Murdoch, a superb cook – the right mix of confidence, intuition and creativity). My absence – I’ve been away some time, in the land of vegetables; a vegetarian, and a proper one, a check-the-label-pretty-carefully type.
I’ve always eaten well. I understand about nutrition, I can cook, although food is far more than just nutrition. In fact I often think of it as pretty good value entertainment, or at the very least, a good basis for entertainment.
So I’ve avoided all this for twice as long as I’ve participated in it, but I’m back.
There’s only one person, I reckon, who could get me to do this. And thank god she did. As my symptoms (permanent headache, light-headedness, dizzy spells & extreme fatigue) were being dismissed by my healthcare providers (“you’re pregnant, it’s normal – take a paracetemol…”) I was lucky enough to have the care of someone with a bit, no a lot, more insight. My blood pressure was dropping (it’s very low anyway), my thyroid not functioning properly, metabolism grinding to a halt; I wasn’t well. I know to expect tiredness in pregnancy, but this was extreme.
Meat for me (and this took a lot of getting used to) I think is probably a necessity, for the moment at least. I’m sorry to desert the vegetarian club, but the change in my health has been dramatic. It’s simple – in a twin pregnancy, you need mega amounts of good quality protein, frequently. And in my case, lovely nuts, lentils and beans just weren’t up to the job. It was a struggle to change, I had a habit, and didn’t expect ever to eat meat again; but in fact habit was all it had become in a way, and this just had to be done (I braced myself, held my nose, and scoffed the stuff, like a child with sprouts). But now I just eat. Food.
All food is food now, though principles are still intact – it’s got to be happy meat; I shall never eat veal, battery chickens, fois gras…