In my last post I introduced my experiment and said I would cook at least three meals with the chosen meat of the week. Unfortunately, right out of the gate I broke that rule, however I don't feel badly about it.
When I bought a package of chicken breasts from Utah Natural Meat I didn't know how much was in there. I weighed it at home on my kitchen scale and it amounted to about a pound and a half. In terms of pieces of meat, it was two large chicken breasts, which I cut into smaller pieces. I made a yummy Jamaican jerk marinade, let it sit in the refrigerator for about 24 hours, then grilled all the meat. Because a pound and a half is quite a lot of meat, eating chicken every day from the day I cooked it, I had it for four days. The point of giving myself a minimum for cooking was to ensure I ate enough meat to really see what impact it had on my health and mood. Eating chicken for four days is plenty.
The first bite of chicken was weird. Before this experiment the only time I ate meat was in situations where I felt like I had to eat it: traveling in France and finding myself in a small town with no vegetarian options; imbibing at the Greek festival because that is what you do at the Greek festival; eating fish because my iron was low. So, to bite into chicken because I chose to, that was strange. I stared at the first bite for a few moments before I actually ate it, thinking about clucking chickens and clucking myself just to make sure I mentally and emotionally understood that a chicken had to die for me to eat this Jamaican jerk. (P.S. Spending time on your grandma's farm allows you to learn how to properly cluck like a chicken. It's really less of a cluck and more of a whine with an uptick at the end. #farmlife)
Once the first bite was over with, it wasn't so bad. I didn't love the chicken. The marinade was good, and I think I cooked it pretty well considering how little practice I've had. But as far as being delicious, the chicken was fairly meh. Maybe chicken isn't my kind of food.
As far as how I felt goes, mentally and emotionally it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. That first bite was weird, as I've said, but I didn't feel guilty for eating it--perhaps because I made an effort to buy meat that was very well taken care of before slaughter.
I felt tired this week. I am not a great sleeper so that's not too unusual, but I hypothesized that eating meat would give me more energy, or perhaps even help me sleep better. Thus far, that is not the case.
With one week down, meat hasn't become very interesting to me. I am surprised at how easy it is to just start eating it again, but other than that it didn't make much of an impression on my week.