I'm speaking of my love affair with meat. Me, as usual, and in keeping with trends, I blame my upbringing. There was a time when downing a good 10-oz ribeye was considered the Real Breakfast of Champions. This slice of down-home protein was sure to be good for the heart, good for the blood, good for growing bones. The Wonder Years started not when the kid could gum a piece of vitamin- enriched bread, but when the canine teeth were availble and he could down a good porterhouse.
People are omnivores.
We eat vegetables and meat. Hey, that's why the species can survive just about anywhere on the planet. I'd say that if there were a continent whose only cash crop were linoleum, we'd have a band of hearty nomads there making everything from shish-kebobs to golden pastries to underwear out of the stuff. And they'd probably be wind-blown and sturdy looking folk. Hey, in the great food chain, if there's a cow in front of me, I'm cutting in.