The neon sign for "Mama’s Steaks" flickered, casting a greasy pink glow over Leo as he stood on the sidewalk, clutching a crumpled grocery list. He had been a loyal carnivore for twenty-nine years, but his new girlfriend, Maya, was coming over for dinner. The note in his hand was clear: Vegan meat. Not mushrooms. The kind that bleeds.

It was a jungle of cardboard boxes. There were "burgers" made of peas, "sausages" crafted from soy, and something called seitan that sounded more like a heavy metal band than dinner. He grabbed a package of patties that promised a "juicy, flame-grilled experience" and hurried to the checkout.

Leo took the advice. An hour later, he was in a tiny, sun-drenched shop that smelled like rosemary and smoked paprika. The butcher—wearing a denim apron and a nose ring—handed him a slab of "marbled steak" made from fermented grains.

"Leo, this is incredible," she said. "Where did you even find this?"

"You’re holding it like it’s a live grenade," she chuckled. "Try the downtown, The Green Carver , if you want the fancy stuff. They make 'ribs' out of jackfruit that'll change your life."