Jonathan Safran Foer: The question is, if we don’t say no to this, what do we say no to? If we don’t say no to something that systematically abuses 50 billion animals, if we don’t say no to the number-one cause of global causing, and not by a little bit, but by a lot, if we don’t say no to what the UN has said is one of the top two or three causes of every significant environmental problem in the world, locally and globally, if we don’t say no to something that is clearly – not clear to me, but clear to the World Health Organization – a prime factor in the generation of Avian and Swine flus, if we don’t say no to something that’s making our antibiotics less effective and ineffective, if we don’t say no to something that causes 76 million of food-borne illness every year, just what do we say no to? This is not a case where we need to go to war with another country or spend a trillion dollars or elect a new government. We just need to say no to it.

This article says it all.

We need to change, people. Put the meat down and slowly back away from the plate.

For the simple version, just enter the Meatrix.

The second reason we rock is related to the soymilk. In the straining process, the soy residue, known as okara (yup, that’s a Japanese word), is left behind. Bursting with protein, fiber, and other good stuff, okara is really too good to just throw out and, as you might have guessed, we used it. Following this recipe, we made okara patties mixed with shredded carrots, parsely root, onion and scallions, and spiced them with curry, cumin, koriander and salt and veggie stock. Cooking was a little more involved, as we had to sautee the veggies and okara separately, then mix the two together and add 2-3 tablespoons of flour to tighten up the mixture before making the patties and baking them for about 30 minutes. But they turned out delicious! Served ‘em with some rice and tomatoes, and dabbed a little sour cream on top. Skills.

Now, S-chan and I get along fine; she’s friendly and we had been meaning to meet up for some asobi (“play”) basically since we started working together. Due to hectic schedules and such, things never materialized until last night, which was admittedly after a week of trying to figure out a good date for everyone. E and I had noticed a new, quite nice-looking restaurant in our neighborhood and invited them to try it out with us. We invited our blogger friends too as we’d been meaning to hang with them recently as well, and one of them studies Japanese so we thought there would be a obvious, like, connection or something.

We met the group at the closest train station and began making our way towards the restaurant. Now, it bears mention here that despite the classy nature of the restaurant, the neighborhood itself is what locals refer to as “the ghetto”, aka the 8th district, which is where a lot of Roma, un-politically-correctly known as gypsies, live and hence a “dangerous” area for some reason. I skate there all the time and have never had any problems, but a lot of Hungarians get sketched out. S-chan’s husband was one of them. After reassuring him that I would protect him from any rabid gangs of 10 year olds, he told me straight out “Well, the problem is I don’t trust you. And maybe you have never experienced real danger.”

Now I’m thinking, “huh?  did he just say that?” and decide that maybe there’s something lost in the language, but over time things develop in a similar way. We get to the restaurant and it’s packed – no way is there a table for seven gonna happen on a Friday night with no reservation, so we start brainstorming for ideas. Our guests suggest going to the MALL, on the OTHER SIDE of town; we politely refuse and think of a local place. As we walk, the husband, we’ll call him Matay, starts questioning me on my vegetarianism. He was one for 12 years (from the decisive ages of 4 to 16), and now he eats meat, so why can’t I? he questions. We settle on a nearby pizza joint and the questions continue, despite me giving my whole spiel on the meat packing industries, antibiotics, hormones, animal and human cruelty and basically just thinking meat is gross. Take a hint guy.

After a couple quickly-doffed brews I loosen up a bit and things go better. We chat about Japan, marriage, computers. When I ask Matay if he’d ever consider living in Japan (keep in mind he’s only 23 years old), he replies decisively in the negative. “I don’t like the people or the city. It’s too crowded.” His wife, Japanese, is sitting next to him. Good thing she doesn’t speak English. On marriage: “I don’t believe in love. Love goes away after the first 2 years. I think you need to find someone you can really understand, and that will last a lifetime.” Suspect. On Americans: “they’re all stupid and lazy. Canadians are much better.” Huh? Am I not sitting right in front of you? Even E was offended, and our blogger friends made a hasty retreat as soon as dinner ended.

Of course the next question was “where do we go from here?” E and I had told some friends we would meet them for some jazz and drinks at The Boat, but Matay suggests we go shoot billiards on the OTHER SIDE of town. We compromise by having a few more drinks at a tourist bar on Raday, which is packed with cool places. Needless to say this place, Matay’s friend’s choice, was not one of them. Conversation stumbled along, and I looked forward to bathroom breaks. Finally we managed to convince them that we had promised to meet our friends and we’d love to play pool another night, maybe on like a Tuesday. And it was over.

We went to the club and were further perplexed by some crazy un-definable jazz/breakbeat/funk/glitch music, which I am hesitant to file under the “Intelligent Dance Music” genre, but cannot find a more suitable category. Although the tiny crowd was a disappointment at first, by 2 am the place was bouncing and we got our grooves on, although it was hardly a release. Now I know what the hipster-est scene looks like. We met up with Akos and his ecclectic roomates from all over the world. I felt very stylish talking nonsense with Croatians, Hungarians and Polish. Very cool, but you gotta be ready for it. Went home about 4 and collapsed – what a strange night.