My friend TOWTAL (The One Who Talks A Lot) somehow convinced his girlfriend to marry him. This means she will endure a life of barely getting a word in, but she seems happy enough.  It was also a great excuse for a massive party with friends I haven’t seen in many years.

As we sat to dinner that evening, the caterers brought out a large steak pie that was to be cut at the table by our table’s ‘Pie Master’.  This was a very responsible job, which I did not get.  Not that I want to go on about it, or how good I would have been in that role.  I thought Quasifrodo did a perfectly acceptable job in the end, with lots of verbal encouragement from me.

There was however a single vegetarian on our table.  Fortunately, it was not one of those mental conscientious ones who claim that meat is ‘murder’, otherwise I would have had to make my ‘why don’t you eat animals that have died of natural causes then?’ argument.  The plant-devourer on our table was simply someone who did not like the texture of meat.  Which is just as mental if you ask me.

As we awaited our perfectly proportioned pie segments, the waiter brought out the vegetarian option.  A frankly enormous vegetable pie.  Easily the size of three of our portions.

“Hang on, why are you favouring the vegetarians?  That is much bigger than my portion.” I asked, perfectly reasonably.

“It’s just that the single pie dishes were this size.” replied the waiter.

It was disappointing.  One of the joys of being a carnivore is mocking the bowl of leaves your vegetarian friends are forced to eat whilst you tuck into a massive rare steak.  Us meat eaters are not designed to envy the plant eaters.  It is so very, very wrong.

Thankfully, I was able to console myself in the knowledge that any pie whose main ingredients were once capable of photosynthesis probably tasted like shit.

pie · vegetarian · wedding