I'm an odd one. I stopped eating mammals in the 80s. Occasionally I'll consume some sort of mammal meat — usually pork, sausage or bacon — but for the most part I eschew it. Truthfully, I don't enjoy it. I never did. Which is why, when I read "The Hunger Artist" by Franz Kafka, this line stood out to me greatly because it explained the ease with which I could give up meat –something everyone else I knew LOVED:
"Because," said the hunger artist, lifting his head a little and speaking, with his lips pursed, as if for a kiss, right into the overseer's ear, so that no syllable might be lost, "because I couldn't find the food I liked. If I had found it, believe me, I should have made no fuss and stuffed myself like you or anyone else."
Giving up dairy would be miserable for me. It is, for lack of a better term, the life-blood of my diet. I eat yogurt at least once a day, if not two. There are so many amazing types of cheeses to taste, try, consume, and adore that I can't imagine a day without it. And butter — even that has degrees of amazingness from banal and bland to full, rich, creamy and decadent. It's the starting point to every wonderful dessert, and the finish to sauces.
However, it's my love of ice cream that would make giving up dairy the worst. While I don't care for whipped cream, I love ice cream. Just the thought of the rich concoction melting on my tongue spreading rich saturated flavors throughout my mouth sends shivers down my spine. Can anything be so wonderful as a taste of the right ice cream?
Meat is nothing — a side dish to life. Dairy, however, is the starting point to everything decadent, wonderful, and interesting in the dietary world.