The Salami Technique

* This post is not suitable for vegetarians. May contain traces of meat.

In my flat, the fridge is just next the door and since I only lock the door at night, anyone can drop by at any time. I have to say that this open-door policy has its plus sides: a) people bring you food b) you are never alone; but it also has its down sides: a) people demand food from you b) you are never alone. My ever-hungry neighbours have taken up the habit of checking what's in my fridge before even closing the door behind them and they always find something to complain about.

- "Why don't you keep any fizzy drinks? I wouldn't mind having some Lemonsoda..."

I profoundly dislike fizzy drinks since I cannot have them without making weird faces. It's embarrassing so I stopped having them, but I love my neighbours so I went and bought Lemonsoda. They were happy for a while but it didn't last for long.

- "You don't even have beer to offer."

I never drink beer alone, I only ever have it with friends. This is why I don't think it is necessary to keep more than 2 cans in the fridge. 

- "Look at this! What on earth do you live on? Love?" (I wish!)

Err... Let's say I never use my fridge to its full capacity... It's actually always half empty (or half full, depending on how you look at it). But it's not my fault! I was brought up in a family where we get the closest to autarky one can get in these modern times: we grow our own vegetables in the summer (and spend three months peeling/chopping/blending/grating/cooking/grilling our produce); we bake our own bread, make our own yogurt, buy cheese and eggs from local farmers... My dad is a convinced supporter of the "think globally, buy locally" and "less is more" philosophy. Therefore, it is NOT surprising that my fridge is always empty.

Visitors have accepted this by now. They got so used to my empty fridge that when they saw a new item on the shelf they almost got a heart attack:

"WHAT is this, Dana?! I really didn't expect this from you! Weren't you...?"

Yes, I was vegetarian. Until that nasty salami found its way to my fridge. I actually bought it for other people, not for myself, I swear. They ate most of it, but not all of it. Big mistake. 

In Edinburgh things were much simpler. Almost all of my closest friends were vegetarian so it was easy not to fall into temptation. And then I had T., my wonderful flatmate. We were (are?) both vegetarian and we would always cook and eat together (only veggie food). When one of us would make an exception to the veggie rule, we would tell each other. It was almost like a     confession:

"You know...over Christmas...family friends came over and...I sinned." (Funnily enough we are both atheists).

Now I've sinned again and I have no one to confess to. In interpreting classes we have been told that if we broke up long sentences into smaller chunks (the so called salami technique) we would find it easier to interpret a complex speech. I thought it might work with the real salami too so I started cutting it up in really thin slices, hoping I'll get tired of it soon - but I didn't.  I know it might sound stupid to make such a fuss, after all billions of people eat meat every day. The thing is that after  telling everyone you are vegetarian for more than 6 years, asking people to cook vegetarian dishes especially for you and saying no to so many yummy-looking dishes because they had meat in them, having a slice or two of that innocent-looking salami almost makes you have an identity crisis. Luckily it's almost gone now and I am not planning to buy any more meat for a very long while. All is not lost :)