Not writing

Fixing a Salad

I have spent so much time talking about reading and writing, I figured change the subject for a moment, and talk about how much I dread someone asking me to fix them a salad.

Let me preface all of this with a statement: I love salad. I love that it is healthy. I love how red bell peppers taste like candy. I love all of the colors together: greens, yellows, whites, reds, orange. Basically a bowl of Happy. I have no problem making a bowl of happy for myself, but someone else?

No Thank You.

What if I cut their tomatoes wrong? What if they like wedges instead of cubed? Don’t get me started on the lettuce. There are just too many options in that department: chopped, ripped, sliced, shredded, washed, dried, get rid of stems, keep stems, lose the stems. GAH.

And if you happen to be helping someone in the kitchen, what do they invariably ask you to do?

Salad, but they give you the salad so that they have time to do something else, usually regarding the main event. So do they give you any instruction? No. I live in dread of finishing a salad and being judged for the way I cut cucumbers. What I really need to do is take a vegetable cutting course. That way if I am EVER judged for my vegetable cutting skills I can say, “You best go back to school, cause Julia Child taught me that.”


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