I’ve exchanged recent emails with friends … Ha, I have some … about the calamity of our Romaine-E.coli national panic … and the “Fall of the Romaine Empire!”
In those exchanges, it became clear that I’m rather rigid in my expectations of what should be in a salad … some have even called me a “Salad Nazi.”
And, I’ve been forced to admit … I’m way beyond the garden variety “kale hater!”
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I’m sure there are worse things to hate … but I find myself now wrought with guilt because kale has done nothing to me.
And … just for the record, I did make what I would call “a valiant attempt” to have a relationship with kale.
I just could not get past the kaleness of kale leaves … and “Pardon me!” … I’m not a “Smoothie-kinda-guy!”
So, these days I find myself searching for substitutes for my beloved Romaine … without having to resort to the dreaded kale.
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Let’s be clear about one thing … I insist on a certain level of “crunchiness” to my salad greens.
Ergo, I eschew spinach leafs … whether new born or craggy old adults … and other “limp green leaf varieties” as an insult to my male sensibilities.
I wonder if it has anything to do with the descriptor: “limp.”
So I’ve fallen back on that old standby … crunchy iceberg lettuce … which except for the outer leaves of “the berg,” looks less and less appetizing as you venture into the washed-out-pale-green “heart of the head.”
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If not carefully monitored, salads easily become boring. The next thing you know, you’re secretly glopping store-bought 1000 Island Dressing on your greens.
And, “Yes, Virginia” … there is a place called Thousand Islands … it’s an archipelago of 1864 islands in the upper Saint Lawrence River between the US and Canada.
To offset “Salad-Boredom-Syndrome” … or, SBS … I’m prone to be a leafy green experimenter.
When I buy fresh carrots, beets and radishes, I save and rinse their green leafed tops to “spice up” my serving of crunchy greens.
They’re a bit bitter … but that’s offset with properly ripened tomato, occasional hearts of palm, and selected olives.
Stuffed olives aren’t just for Martinis!
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In addition to absolutely refusing to eat raw kale, no raw mushrooms ever touch my salads.
A word to the wise … with a raw mushroom, you can never ever rinse, wash or scrub enough to erase the fact that it’s grown in s**t.
Just sayin’ …