Some measly musings on non-meat meats.

Or, the ironic animal-rights quest to make things that taste like animals

I’ve often been left feeling like a fool for supposing that our species, or society, or whatever you want to call us, could transition to a plant-based way of life. I’ve certainly never really thought it could happen any time soon, but I sustained hope that the process was long but inevitable. And yet, the consumption of animal products is so pervasive as to seem indomitable. Even the laws of nature often seem poised against those of us who strive for a world friendlier to the non-human. Predation is fundamental and intrinsic to the functioning of ecosystems as we understand them. Carnivory is an evolutionary strategy that has helped the development of our own species alongside many others. In our own bodies, these lumbering cages of flesh that we so often forget are themselves evolutionarily-bound ecosystems of little itty-bitty microscopic organisms, many of those little itty-bitty things we call our cells have a predestined point of self-destruction, so that the rest of the body’s cells and systems might further prosper (biologists call it apoptosis).

Of course, lions don’t do things like drive cars or wear clothes. Nature makes no laws, that’s just something we lawyers do. Predation being fundamental to our origins says little about what we can become, as neither were cars nor clothes nor most of those other things we say make us “human” (like beauty and justice and whatnot) fundamental to our origins. We don’t have to be beholden to where we come from, and we’ve already all decided that there are things that can be improved about where we come from; hopefully the maltreatment and consumption of our animalian cousins will soon make the list.

And yet, I myself haven’t had the conviction or courage or comfort with inconvenience to live a formally vegan, plant-based way of life. I partake of dairy and eggs, for example. I like dairy and eggs. I remember liking cheeseburgers and sushi and fried chicken too. Those foods tasted good, made me happy, and bonded me with others. I can easily imagine a world where plants serve the same function, but none of us fell out of a coconut tree. While maybe we can move beyond carnivory, it’s the history and context to which we were born, and its grip is fierce. I don’t like trying to take things away from people. And so for a long time I lived personally vegetarian while pinning my hopes on the notion that one day we’ll be able to grow a fine steak in a lab, and if we’re really lucky maybe even some Star Trek molecular replicators in the far future.

There are gripes and concerns about lab-grown meat, of course. Some logistical concerns: it’s important to keep the growing meat healthy, and unfortunately it’s kinda tricky to keep vats of flesh appropriately antiseptic, at least at scale. Some meat-eaters have concerns about consumption of the “unnatural,” before readily reaching for Oreos, or American cheese, or our well-bred bananas. On the flip-side, meat-eschewers sometimes protest the consumption of meat on symbolic or spiritual grounds: eating flesh is gross and wrong, and we should have a respect for animals that extends to forswearing even imitations, just as one might consider it offensive to create imitation human-meat.

On the whole, it seems easier to me to persuade people to switch over from a meat-based diet to a lab meat–based diet, than to do so to a totally plant-based diet. People like their meat and eggs and dairy! That’s entirely why so many people who otherwise claim to abhor the consumption of meat spend so much time trying to make their food look and smell and taste like meat. Alas, the plant-based imitations we’ve concocted, from cashew cheeses and tomato-tuna, are so often only a woeful and never-quite-satisfying grasping for what we claim we don’t even want. For plant-eaters they can be a bit sad, and for meat-eaters disproportionately offensive for having attempted to emulate perfection. For what it’s worth, these imitations do get better each year.

Though plenty of plant-based cultures have arisen on different parts of the globe, the practice of consuming animal products and byproducts has been with us for longer than we’ve even been human. Change is hard and solutions that conform to who and what we are just seem parsimonious. And so lab meat seemed the way. That is, until…

Until I tried MyBacon. Yes, that’s right. All that philosophizing was a lead-up to some product placement. No, MyBacon did not pay me. No, I haven't actually done that much research into their practices (I’ve done some, okay). ALDF has no affiliation with MyBacon. But MyBacon does have one with Berkeley Bowl; namely, you can go and buy their mycelial bacon there. That’s what the “My” stands for – mycelial, i.e. fungus. It’s a new product, so it’s still pricier than you’d ever want bacon to be, but by God they did it. MyBacon’s mycelial bacon has convinced me. We don’t need to grow flesh in giant vats to sate our carnivorous desires. For what it’s worth, I haven’t had animal-based bacon in many years; but my bacon-loving partner has, and she concords with my opinion: mycelial bacon is awesome. It had the umami of bacon. It had the crispiness of bacon. It had the sizzle and aroma of bacon. Slices of seasoned mushroom-root lathered in coconut oil, they cooked in the pan a little funny but smelled and looked and tasted like years-old memories.

This vegetarian was pleased, and with every mycelial bite I could see a future. Many of us who have abstained from meat perform great labors to secure something like it, whether it be through hypochondriacal vats of flesh or uncanny imitations that try to convince you whey and peas are really similar to ground beef. But the mushrooms have honor. MyBacon was canny as hell. And after doing a little research, I’ve got to believe its canniness lies in its elegance. Take a look at their process:

(and take a look here for more.)

This wasn’t some cockamamie solution, trying to transmute tomatoes into tuna or whatever (no hard feelings, I actually quite enjoy imitation tuna). It’s hardly bacon, but quite literally a slab of mycelium, providing for me just about all the ineffable and scrumptious things bacon used to provide (maybe a bit less protein, but hey, it’s new!). MyBacon just took advantage of the way mushrooms are, and the way we are, to create a most parsimonious solution indeed.

Here’s hoping fungus don’t have feelings (sorry shrooms-heads).

-Friend of vermin, destroyer of fungus