Alisa Blatter is a young mother who lives in Mount Washington. She is my friend and neighbor and a very, very good cook. We often trade recipes and food finds. Recently, I invited her, her husband Josh and their son Max to dinner. I planned to serve veal shanks as the center of the plate.
"Oh. I haven't eaten veal for 25 years," Ms. Blatter said. "My ban on veal started in 1985 when I was a high school sophomore in England. A fellow student put a paper on my desk, a did-you-know rant against how veal was raised. The words were descriptive enough, but worse, the photos of calves raised in crates, away from their mothers and too weak to stand, produced a feeling of horror. My visceral response was so strong, I told my mom I never want to eat veal again. And I haven't."
Oh dear. I know, of course, that veal has long been synonymous with cruelty, with animal lovers shocked by images of young calves confined in minimal spaces. Well, if you shop carefully, you will find that things are changing for the better.
"Hey, listen," I responded. "Raising veal is a whole new ball game. In most cases the rules and practices have evolved. If I can promise to serve ethically raised veal, will you eat it? Maybe it's time to rethink the subject."
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