LAMB CHOPS PLAY-ALONG

Flannery Klette-Kolton

Looking back on my childhood, the irony of my favorite meal and my favorite show both being “lamb chops” is not lost on me.

At the age of four, perched atop a stepstool, my first kitchen task was to mill parsley with an ENORMOUS meat cleaver. With surgeon like precision, I would sprinkle the green snow over the generously dijon laden lamb chops before they were popped under the broiler. I would eagerly watch through the oven glass, patiently awaiting the moment I could sink my tiny teeth into the original meat on a stick, the perfect handheld meat lollipop. It was an explosion of taste and texture. The tang and spice of the mustard brought balance to the wild flavor of the lamb while protecting the chops from drying out. The parsley would burn under the open flames, becoming crunchy and capturing the rustic flavor of the fire. I’d eat the chops clean, tearing at the gristle and  fat on the bone until there was nothing but a graveyard on my plate. On those nights, I would only pick up my fork to eat my peas so I would be allowed another piece of meat.

So I guess it is fair to say that I always had an infatuation with meat. It was my love of meat & fish and its hedonistic reputation that inspired my career. Its carnal and fleshy and provocative. I can relate. I found it indulgent, maybe even empowering, and the fabrication of it erotic & primal. It was not unusual for me to order a pork chop or a ribeye for dessert.

Things change.

I started doing ayahuasca 2.5 years ago. And somewhere in my own journey with the plant medicines I lost my taste for meat. Maybe taste isn’t entirely accurate, but the smell became too gamey and the muscular texture off putting. I can eat it raw, or ground, but I just can’t sink my teeth into a cut of meat like I used to. There is no vibration, and for lack of a better description it just tastes, well, dead. It’s a bummer. A bad breakup.

Inconvenient to say the least. But my old ally, my partner in meat crime, the peas, pulled thru. They have been there for me all along.

The truth is that I feel fantastic and am proud to say that I am deep in a passionate love affair with vegetables. It’s like I’m finally dating the nice guy, the underdog, the unsung hero of the hedonist world. So for now, I have to honor my body and its cravings (or lack thereof). I’m not in lamb chop eating shape quite yet, but if I do so happen to have a craving, I’ll whip up some simple & clean steak tartare or some mini berkshire pork meatballs. I can’t help but binge taste-test these when preparing either for a client, as if I was swept away in a momentary Instagram K hole over a bad-boy biker ex. Maybe it’s because both recipes use mustard and parsley. Whatever the reason is that I find these irresistible, they do the trick. I get my fix. And no one’s the wiser.