Not too long ago, I wondered on this blog “Could I play for the other team?” What I meant was after almost 20-years of being a pescatarian (a fish-eating vegetarian, but no meat of any kind for over half of my life), could I go back to eating meat?

I was reconsidering for a number of reasons, all of which are mentioned here, but what was troubling most was the change in identity I would undergo. I absolutely couldn’t — and still can’t — see myself as a carnivore.

The post even attracted the attention of a reporter from Reuters, who quoted me in a story about Compassionate Carnivores, as the voice who was thinking about making the switch, but hadn’t yet done so.

I wasn’t sure when I would be tempted to try meat again, but I had the feeling it was coming any day now, or possibly any month, or year. And I was right.

We arrived at our friend Laurie and Dave’s house for Thanksgiving, and as soon as I walked into their house, I realized that it was one of those rare moments where instead of being overwhelmed by the meat smell, it actually smelled really good. And when I saw the golden bird, well, it actually looked appealing. I asked Laurie about the turkey, and learned that it was indeed organic and free-range.

To make it even more tempting, she had made a turkey-Port wine gravy. Being that Port is one of my favorite things on the planet, well, if I was going to choose a moment, now was as good as any.

I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but I told Laurie and Paulie, my husband, that I thought my moment had come. Unless I backed out at the buffet table, I was going to have a few bites of turkey. As I was the only non-meat eater there, everyone got very excited for me, especially Paulie. While he loves my healthy vegetarian cooking, he would love it even more if I began eating meat again, because then I would probably cook it, too.

I feared I might back out. But I didn’t. As I picked up the serving fork and put a few bites of dark meat on my plate, I didn’t freak out in the slightest.

I filled up the rest of my plate with roasted Brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes and sourdough stuffing with kale, figs and hazelnuts. At the table, I added some cranberry chutney, and then slathered on the gravy.

And then I did it. I took the first bite of meat I’ve had in almost 20 years.

No big whoop happened – no lightening bolts or full-body shudders. It tasted good, yes, enough so that I went back for seconds, and had three more bites. I knew it would taste good though – I didn’t stop eating meat because of the taste.

Later that night, though, in the middle of the night, I awoke with a killer stomach ache. Was it the turkey, I wondered? Or was it the overall pigging out (excuse the expression, kosher-keepers…) the over-the-top pecan chocolate Bourbon pie and butternut squash cranberry cake I made?

When I told my dad this weekend, he was incredulous. He assured me that he’d love me the same no matter if I started eating meat again or not. (A kind of silly thing to say, but it was cute). My husband called it a milestone, and I agree. But at the same time, I told him he should not expect that now that I did it once, my carnivorous tendencies will return, just like that.

Thanksgiving was already four days ago. And while I thought about tasting some organic, sustainably-raised lamb meatballs my friend ordered in a lovely fish restaurant in Monterey on Saturday night, the thought passed quickly.

Yes, it was a milestone. But who knows the next time meat will look that good. I do know that now that I did it once, it will probably be easier the next time, at least that’s what former vegetarian friends tell me.

And I’m just as curious as anyone to see how this turns out.