Animal rights group simply needs to evolve

What's round, brown and hard to choke down?

Thanksgiving, PETA-style.

Drop the drumstick, ma'am. Step away from the giblets, sir.

Once again, the curd-brains at People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals are out to ruin America's Turkey Day appetites. These food fanatics are on a quest to make us carnivores feel guilty for enjoying life at the top of the food chain.

"This holiday season, PETA urges Americans to start a new tradition by enjoying a celebration without suffering," reads a PETA statement e-mailed to me last week.

And what new tradition, you ask?

Two words: tofu turkey.

You may pause until the dry heaves pass.

Let me be clear. It makes no nevermind to me how you meatless misanthropes get your nourishment. Go ahead, shove soybeans down your pie holes till the clowns come home.

The way I see it, the more vegetarians, the more bratwurst for Doug.

PETA zealots don't share my "eat and let eat" attitude. They're more close-minded than Jerry Falwell at an ACLU convention. They're more relentless than telemarketers with speed dial. The anti-meat agitators won't rest until everyone is chugging wheat grass tea and walking around in pleather shoes.

PETA is always pulling sophomoric stunts to grab attention. Members dress up in animal costumes or lettuce bikinis and hand out propaganda like religious tracts. They hang signs claiming Thanksgiving is "murder on turkeys" or that "Jesus was a vegetarian."

This year, however, PETA says it has toned it down a bit in light of the Sept. 11 attacks. This kinder, gentler PETA is giving tofu turkeys to homeless shelters and to winners of an essay contest "on vegetarianism and the true meaning of Thanksgiving."

One lucky recipient is an area resident who closed her essay with the following verse: "For now I am healthy and a friend to the planet. There will be no turkey on MY dinner plate, damn it!"

That's no poem, that's deep-fried doggerel.

But I don't want to be as narrow-brained as PETA. It's always easier to criticize what you don't know.

So one afternoon last week I went to Huckleberry's Natural Market and spent 16 bucks on a frozen natural Tofurky roast with a side tub of natural Tofurky gravy.

Who knows? Maybe PETA is right. Maybe this will become the new Thanksgiving fare at the Clark house.

Maybe I will become the lead bassoonist for the New York Philharmonic.

"I'm not eating that," my wife said. End of story.

The Tofurky ingredients listed on the package don't exactly ring the holiday chimes. At the top is "water" followed by "vital wheat gluten" (as opposed to unnecessary wheat gluten?), and "expeller pressed GMO Free canola oil." Yum!

After an overnight thaw, I freed my Tofurky from its plastic bag and gazed upon its rubbery countenance. This thing looks like a miniature version of the seed pods from "The Body Snatchers" movie.

The term "dinosaur dropping" also came to mind.

Into the oven it went, wrapped in foil, for baking. Nothin' says lovin' like Tofurky in the oven. Out it came at the appropriate time.

I opened the foil and confronted a steaming brown goiter. Steeling myself, I surgically removed a slice and slathered it with gravy.

I chewed the bland, spongy matter into paste. And swallowed.

When you sit down at your Thanksgiving table today, say a prayer for those poor PETA recipients at the homeless shelters. The Donner Party wouldn't turn down Tofurky, but as a substitute for the real deal?

Not on your tail feathers.

To any self-respecting meat eater, this fake-and-bake bird is B.B. King with an accordion. Put a tofu turkey on your holiday plate and the thrill is definitely gone.

Copyright 2001 Cowles Publishing Company
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.