There’s no ethical consumption under late-stage capitalism, but that doesn’t mean meat-peddling plutocrats should get off without the occasional college student boycotting their flesh-empire. If you’re a conscientious objector to the hyper-commodification of animals, you might be worried about staying satiated in a new place. Since you’re going to London, worry not; there are far more options in this city than in the States, so no more having this conversation at every meal:
“And may I please get it without the cheese, mayo, and that vaguely creamy mystery sauce?” “No sauce? No one’s asked Chef Lawrence Guardenbuckle to hold the sauce in eighty years!” “Eighty years? How old is this guy? Has anyone ever seen him actually make the sauce?” “Seen—hah. Making the sauce has always been a private ritual. And as he’s aged, an increasingly strenuous one.” “Yeah I’ll definitely take no sauce please. I think everyone at the table will.” I’ve walked blindly into many a London food establishment and had no problems finding menu-listed fully vegan options. Even McDonald’s has the McPlant: all the taste and feel of a classic McDonald’s cheeseburger without the blood money. They even cook their fries in veggie oil (the States use lard) so you can relive your treasured memories of childhood stomach aches with a late-night Happy Meal. And really, what better way is there to stick it to the man than giving your hard-earned coinage to a global fast-food monopoly? Grocery-wise, things are different. The fridges are dorm-sized because people don’t buy two weeks of dinner ingredients and load it into their minivan; they grab what they need on the walk home. This proves challenging to persons accustomed to making single-serve herbivorous meals, since there’s no constant fridge staples like loose carrots and crusty salad dressing to put the finishing touches on a black-bean-lettuce-leftover-pasta-string-bean-french-fry-and-almond-milk breakfast bowl. If you’re strapped for cash, this might mean returning occasionally to more primitive snackage panjandrums like “a single slice of bread,” or “being hungry.” Or, if you have three or four pounds in your pocket, you can walk to Pret or Sainsbury’s for a convenient, on the go vegan snack like cold falafel balls or an oat milk latte. Overall, the challenges aren’t particularly arduous. Don’t give up your sense of moral superiority for a chance to try meat raised in a cage on a different continent. Captivity always tastes the same. (And don’t get me started on that “free-range” bullshit; the only thing that’s free-range is corporate tyranny.)
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