My husband recently read a review of some books about the US food supply, more particularly the meat supply, and he's off meat altogether. I'm just as happy to go along. I mean, I love meat--my mother swears that "MEAT!" was my first word--but I've learned to love veg, too.
When Charlie and I were first married, I was a "meat and 'taters" person. "Salad" meant iceburg lettuce and tomato. "Vegetables" meant canned corn or green beans. "Fruit" meant bananas. Since then, my definitions have broadened. (No remarks about anything else that's broadened over the years, please.)
We have a daughter who's ovo-lacto-vegetarian and two others who are almost that meatless. The fourth used to date an ovo-lacto-vegetarian and still eats more veg than meat.
So we've collected recipes and techniques, and often go for days without meat, not really intending to. There's an organic grocery not too far from here, so we've decided that we might buy the occasional free-range chicken or package of ham from them, just for variety or to share with meat-eating guests.
Years ago, I told our first vegetarian daughter than I was giving up on pot roast, because I couldn't get it tender--no matter how I cooked it, it was always tough. She said, "That's because the cow is going, 'Okay, eat me, then, but I'm going to tense up so you can't enjoy it.'"
Which brings me to one of my favorite jokes:
A guy from Brooklyn was hiking in a jungle somewhere when he was captured by cannibals. He asked what they were going to do with him. They said they were going to kill him and skin him and eat him and tan his skin to cover a wicker frame and make a canoe. "Oh, yeah?" He grabs a fork and pokes himself all over and says, "THERE'S ya frackin' canoe!"