I’m visiting family and friends in Texas. We went to a lovely restaurant in downtown Granbury last night. One of those farm to table kinds of places where they take great care in where they get their food. They like to tell you about it. I asked about the duck.
The server was quick to tell me that it is one of the few items that is always on the menu. It was one of her favorites. She then started telling me where it came from. A farm in Vermont. She talked about the ponds the duck swam in.
I said, “Stop!” Look, I care that my food was raised humanely. I care how it was fed. However, I don’t want to hear about its lovely little life before it was snatched away from its mother and served to me on a plate! All I could see was this little duckling still without feathers. Innocent. Happy. I couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t.
I got a steak instead. I told the server I wanted to know nothing about where it came from. The steak was perfect. Glad I didn’t get the duck. Probably never will again. Sadly, I really like duck. Ugh.