When my six-year-old took me aside to tell me the news, her voice was softer and more serious than usual. I knew that I was about to hear her first big secret. The confession was brief: "Mum, I think I may be vegetarian."
Of course I knew that already. I got fair warning two years ago when she stood in front of a display of turkeys in Superquinn and asked me how they got there. As I tried to convince her that they died of natural causes, another mother - older and wiser - took me aside and whispered: "You've got a budding vegetarian on your hands. Give it a year or two. Believe me, I've been through it."
And sure enough, two years later she was pushing the meat to the side of her plate. I blame The Simpsons: the episode in which Lisa tries to convert the world to vegetarianism. She articulated and reinforced my child's already considerable doubts about meat. I also blame the anthropomorphism of animal life in children's books in which animals have personalities, wear clothes and speak English. Not to mention Animal Hospital, Pet Rescue and our annual pilgrimages to Dingle to see Fungi. Like so many other children, my daughter has decided that animals have feelings like we do - and maybe she's right.
In an attempt to feed her properly, I was getting into the habit of keeping beans on toast and pasta with cheese sauce on stand-by for the days she refused chicken, fish and beef. I wasn't quite ready to go into full Linda McCartney mode. In my attempt to please all five members of the family, meals were becoming like smorgasbords - something pureed for the baby, a vegetarian option for the six year-old, something spicy and sophisticated with meat and vegetables for the adults and a blander version for the meat-loving three-year-old. Despite all the food I was serving, I was still worried about vitamins and iron and feeling guilty about not putting more effort into the vegetarian meals.
Guilt and worry, worry and guilt - such is a mother's lot. I support my child in whatever she does, but life is too short to soak pulses. Tofu tastes disgusting. Soya-burgers meant to taste like the real thing are pathetic. But can a child survive on pasta with grated cheese and beans on toast?
"Relax," advises my friend Pat, who has reared three families and has successfully brought a vegetarian son from infancy through the Leaving Cert and on to university. He's never been sick a day in his life, while his meat-eating brother had asthma, eczema, dermatitis, the lot. "Don't worry about it," she says. "Anyway, I've never known a vegetarian to refuse a rasher."
Next I rang Paula Mee, Superquinn's nutritional advisor. "Don't make a battle out of it," she advises. "But look into it. It's not just a matter of taking the meat off the plate and eating what's left. Is there any meat she'll eat?"
"Mmm, maybe rashers," I suggest.
"Great. People think of them as junk food, but they're full of iron," she says. Then she asks, "how about burgers?" "No."
"Sausages?"
"No."
"Fish fingers?"
"No. She says it's cruel to the fish."
Paula explains that if my daughter is not eating meat three or four times a week, she has three potential deficits: protein, iron and vitamin B12. Protein is so readily available in non-meat foods that it's not a problem and most Irish people eat too much anyway, Paula says.
There is a catch, however. Meat has a full complement of amino acids, whereas dairy products, pulses, cereals and grains are incomplete in this regard. You can give your body a "complete protein" with all the necessary amino acids by mixing dairy with grains, pulses with grains and so on, which is why beans on toast or cereal and milk are complete proteins.
Iron is particularly a problem for teenage girls when they begin to menstruate, and if you are at all worried, have your child's blood tested, Paula advises. Meat has haem-iron, which is readily absorbed, while plant sources have non-haem iron which is not as easily absorbed and must be eaten with vitamin C to be of benefit. Non-haem iron can be obtained from fig rolls (low in fat, high in fibre), raisins, fortified breakfast cereals, baked beans, eggs, green leafy vegetables and wholemeal bread.
B12 is available from cheese and milk, and is a problem only for Vegans, who can get it from Marmite.
The chances of getting my daughter to eat greeny, leafy vegetables and Marmite are slim, but I think she could manage the fig rolls.
As I talk with Paula, vegetarianism is gradually becoming less alien, but I am still feeling anxious. At the teatime witching hour when the children are getting bratty and the larder is scanty, how am I supposed to figure out how to concoct a complete protein? "How about quorn?", Paula suggests. Quorn is a myco-protein, the polite word for a mushroom-like fungus which is an excellent non-fat source of protein - like I need more fungi in my life. You can buy quorn in the frozen foods section of Superquinn and add it to recipes such as spaghetti Bolognese and soups, she advises.
Off I went to Quinnsworth, since it was nearer than Superquinn. I asked for Quorn. Shop assistants looked at me compassionately, as though I was saying "corn" in a strange accent or had just had dental surgery. There were a few stifled smiles.
Next stop Superquinn Blackrock, where I should have headed in the first place. There, Mary Darby-Byrne the wonderful "concierge" was only too willing to help. She's been a committed vegetarian ever since her brother worked in an abattoir and regaled her with stories of animal torture. She had me gobsmacked in the aisle while she divulged some of what he had told her - it's too awful to repeat here.
Anyway, Mary knows a lot about vegetarianism and was full of useful advice. "Vegetarian cooking is all about flavour, beautiful herbs and vegetables. It's much more interesting than meat," she said.
She offered to bring my daughter on a vegetarian tour of the store and explain all about the importance of a balanced vegetarian diet. (I will consider this, remembering that Paula had suggested that once my child understood how complicated vegetarianism was, she might change her mind.)
Bonded in vegetarianism - for the moment, at least - Mary and I headed straight for where the quorn should have been. But it wasn't there. No quorn. Superquinn's nutritional advisor may recommend it, but nevertheless it's been "de-listed" because nobody was buying it. I was actually a little bit relieved not to have to cook something which sounds like the dish of the day on Red Dwarf.
But Mary persisted and eureka - she found that although Superquinn didn't have the quorn which you cook yourself, it did have some quorn in the form of "Crispy Quorn Fillets in a Seasoned Coating" and "low-fat quorn sausages made from succulent mycoprotein, onion and a herb and spice seasoning".
I bought the lot. The children liked the quorn sausages and fillets served on Superquinn's fresh-baked rolls with ketchup. They didn't like the tofu burgers. Mary also sent me home with a bag of vege-mince with which I made Bolognese sauce. My long-suffering husband was not fooled ("like eating weevils") and the children balked. Lesson: don't try any more soya products which imitate the real thing, invent new vegetarian-cooking style instead.
In this pursuit, the local bookshop turned up four vegetarian cookbooks for children: particularly good were First Steps To A Vegetarian Family by Carole Clement (Foulsham, £4.99) and Baby & Child Vegetarian Recipes by Carol Timperley (Ebury Press, £12.65), which is endorsed by the British Vegetarian Society - although I'm dubious about parents imposing vegetarianism on babies and toddlers who cannot decide for themselves.
Both books promised quickto-prepare recipes which do not require extensive pulse-soaking or weird ingredients available only in health food stores. The only problem is, my children will not eat vegetable curry and leek tart and paella because they like their food to be segregated on the plate - peas not touching mashed potatoes not touching quorn, etc.
I'm taking Paula's advice, and not making a big deal about it. I believe my daughter's cause is a noble one and at the same time I want her to be able to row back and change her mind with dignity if she decides to eat meat.
Last night I caught my breath as she said, "I will eat some meat."
"You will?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"At Christmas I'll eat turkey."
"OK, and how about rashers, occasionally ?" I asked, pushing my luck.
"I'll eat rashers," she said.
All I can say is, thank goodness rashers don't look like real meat.