The Bite 014: Meat Dreams & Vegan Schemes

It all started with a grill. Not just any grill — a full-blown, testosterone-fueled, weekend-long meat parade, orchestrated by my stepson and husband like they were planning the Olympics of Beef. Burgers. Hot dogs. Bacon. By Sunday afternoon, I blacked out somewhere between the second sizzle of a hot dog and the third time someone said, “It really sucks to be you.” No kidding... thanks for the play-by-play, Matthew. If I had a dollar for every unsolicited reminder of my veganism, I could buy a tofu startup and rename it Better Than Matt’s Meat Feelings™.

When you let the lactose-intolerant one measure ingredients and the teenager brings the chaos.

I'm almost off of the steroids and starting to feel like a person again — you know, not crying in CVS or side-eyeing squirrels for having snacks. I was inching toward zen.

I was close to inner peace… which was promptly destroyed by “Lunch Round 4: The Revenge of the Bacon.” (Coming to Netflix this fall. Starring Kevin Bacon and my family’s grill.)

So I did what any new vegan warrior would do: I faked a stomachache and slithered off for a nap. Just me, my body pillow, and the faint scent of betrayal wafting in from the backyard.

And that’s when it hit: the dream.

A full-blown, BBQ-scented fever dream — terrifying and delicious. Suddenly, I was in Tuscany. Rolling hills. Cypress trees. A vineyard in the distance. My great-nonna’s ghost waved from a balcony while sipping Chianti and muttering,“Mamma mia, is that brisket?”

But it wasn’t really Italy. It was like Italy and Las Vegas hooked up at Coachella, ate edibles, and accidentally created a Food Network-themed escape room.

There were sausage links strung like party lights. Cheese chandeliers. Trees oozing mozzarella like a lactose-intolerant fever dream. A mariachi band played, but each member was made entirely out of bacon. The trumpet player? Smoked kielbasa. The tambourine guy? Had meatballs for hands. I was horrified… and also thinking, “I could dance to this.”

At the center of it all?

A massive La Caja China roasting box — the kind you use to roast a whole pig.

Except this one had the pig. Big, golden, glistening. Looking like it just got back from a wellness retreat in Miami. The smell was… intoxicating. Like if Jo Malone released a candle called “Midlife Crisis & Hickory Smoke.”

Then — as if summoned by my subconscious meat cravings — Ozzy Osbourne emerged from the smoky abyss. Full rocker mode, eyeliner melting, apron flapping. It said: “Crazy Train BBQ — ALL ABOARD!”

In his one hand? A chipotle barbacoa burrito. In the other? A bubbling tray of what he claimed was his chicken lasagna. He had the kind of stare that says “I’ve snorted more pulled pork than you’ve eaten.”

He leaned in and whispered: “Go on, love. Take a bite. Bite its bloody head off.”

And reader… I did.

I bit into that pig like it was a communion wafer handed down by Meat Jesus himself.

Ozzy shouted, “Sharon! She did it! Let’s f***ing go!”

I woke up smiling. High on imaginary MEAT and the unmistakable energy of Questionable Life Choices, Volume 3.

And then…I smelled it. Real meat. Again.

The guys were back at it — flipping homemade burgers like they were auditioning for a cooking show called “Grill or Be Grilled: Hosted by Gordon Ramsay’s Rage.”

They even toasted the buns. WITH BUTTER.

This wasn’t a casual cookout. This was a multi-day beef summit.

Nothing says romance like prepping beef in a vegan household.

But instead of losing it, I just stood there. Clutching my lukewarm water bottle like it was emotional support kombucha. And I thought:“Okay. This is my life. These are my people. My meat ‘bros.’ And I’m gonna win.”

That’s when I made the decision. I’m not retreating into the quinoa shadows.

I’m going full-blown vegan villain origin story.

I will cook food so good, they won’t even know it’s plant-based.

Jackfruit sliders that make grown men cry.

Tofu so spicy it files its own restraining order.

Beyond Burgers so juicy they’ll be texting me at 2 a.m. like, “Hey... you up?”

You think Elon’s AI chef can do that?

Please. I’ve got taste buds, spite, and a Pinterest board titled “Revenge Meals That Slap.”

I’m not the main dish — I’m the plot twist that ruins brisket forever.

This is the Bat Mitzvah moment.

Cue the dramatic Sandler music.

Slow pan to me in the kitchen, stirring vegan bolognese like a woman who has seen some things… and now owns an air fryer.

Happy Monday, friends.

Stay strong. Stay weird. Stay vegan.

And if you see Ozzy…tell him I’m coming for that lasagna recipe!

Dom

A.K.A. TickBitChick