Lettuce Salad Quotes

You cannot see the lettuce and the dressing without suspecting a salad.

Lord Vetinari lifted an eyebrow with the care of one who, having found a piece of caterpillar in his salad, raises the rest of the lettuce.

Of course, if I had misbehaved that day, my dinner was a salad made entirely out of iceberg lettuce, with water on top instead of dressing. It was like cabbage soup without the dignity.


Her mom carefully selected her memories to reflect her established opinions, and it turned her mind into a bowl of lettuce she believed was a salad.

One would have thought that not even Joyce could have maltreated a salad to the point where it became inedible, but one would have been wrong. Abustle with wild life, it was also soaked in a vinegary dressing. Barnaby lifted a soggy lettuce leaf. A small insect emerged, valiantly swimming against the tide.

…   not my own opinion, but my wife’s: Yesterday, when weary with writing, I was called to supper, and a salad I had asked for was set before me. ‘It seems then,’ I said, ‘if pewter dishes, leaves of lettuce, grains of salt, drops of water, vinegar, oil and slices of eggs had been flying about in the air for all eternity, it might at last happen by chance that there would come a salad.’ ‘Yes,’ responded my lovely, ‘but not so nice as this one of mine.

New Rule: If you get to serve me a quarter-head of lettuce with dressing on it, which proves you could have made a salad but chose not to, then I get to pay you with an ATM receipt, which proves I have the money but you're not getting any.

Like every other tiny-ass town in the South, there were plenty of crappy Mexican restaurants to choose from. Not fancy Mexican like I eat in L.A. When I eat Mexican food in L.A., it’s like a kale salad with pepitas and soy beef tacos with fresh pico de gallo. In NC, it’s a five-dollar plate of cheese enchiladas with refried beans and a bowl of melted white cheese dip. Essentially you just walk in and ask for a plate of brown with a little iceberg lettuce, and it’s fucking delish.

Whereas the rich residents of Beverly Hills eat lettuce salad and steamed tofu with quinoa, in the slums and ghettos the poor gorge on Twinkie cakes, Cheetos, hamburgers and pizza.

The stew had been made with chunks of beef, potatoes, and turnips simmered in burgundy wine until they melted at the lightest pressure of the tongue. There was a salad of crisp lettuce greens and chopped mint leaves, and wedges of cottage bread, the interior laced with holes to catch every drop of salted butter.

Indeed, in most countries today overeating has become a far worse problem than famine. In the eighteenth century Marie Antoinette allegedly advised the starving masses that if they ran out of bread, they should just eat cake instead. Today, the poor are following this advice to the letter. Whereas the rich residents of Beverly Hills eat lettuce salad and steamed tofu with quinoa, in the slums and ghettos the poor gorge on Twinkie cakes, Cheetos, hamburgers and pizza

Today, the poor are following this advice to the letter. Whereas the rich residents of Beverly Hills eat lettuce salad and steamed tofu with quinoa, in the slums and ghettos the poor gorge on Twinkie cakes, Cheetos, hamburgers and pizza.

Nim unwrapped a loaf of fresh dilled rye bread and opened a crock of trout mousse. He slathered up a big slice and handed it to me. [...] We had thinly sliced veal smothered in kumquat sauce, fresh spinach with pine nuts, and fat red beefsteak tomatoes (impossibly rare at this time of year) broiled and stuffed with lemon apple sauce. The wide, fan-shaped mushrooms were sauteed lightly and served as a side dish. The main course was followed by a salad of red and green baby lettuce with dandelion greens and toasted hazelnuts.

As I move along the line, other food items are plunked onto my tray: a small salad of iceberg lettuce and bacos, a slice of white bread with a pat of Hotel Holiday butter and blob of red Jell-O with fruit cocktail trapped inside. Instantly, I feel compassion for the trapped fruit.

Tiffany had taken Mac to Lettuce Eat, a salad bar extravaganza. I couldn’t see that working out, but if it did, I figured Mac’s feelings for her were true.

Well, it sounds like you like her. So, here’s what you do: when you see her tonight, tell her she looks hot. Chicks love being told they look hot. Oh, and order her a salad—chicks love lettuce.

My wife says Ambersons don’t make lettuce salad the way other people do; they don’t chop it up with sugar and vinegar at all. They pour olive oil on it with their vinegar, and they have it separate—not along with the rest of the meal. And they eat these olives, too: green things they are, something like a hard plum, but a friend of mine told me they tasted a good deal like a bad hickory-nut. My wife says she’s going to buy some; you got to eat nine and then you get to like ‘em, she says.

In the cafeteria line I took a knife and fork. Ivan handed me another knife and another fork. I stared at the two knives and two forks. At the salad bar, Ivan put lettuce and tomatoes in a bowl and topped them with dressing. I also put some things in a bowl but at the end it wasn’t a salad, it was just a lot of random things in a bowl. At the soda fountain, Diet Coke seethed over my wrist. We found two empty seats at the opposite end of a table from four football players. The football players’ trays resembled futuristic cities, with glasses of milk and Gatorade shooting out like white and fluorescent skyscrapers.

Indeed, in most countries today overeating has become a far worse problem than famine. In the eighteenth century Marie Antoinette allegedly advised the starving masses that if they ran out of bread, they should just eat cake instead. Today, the poor are following this advice to the letter. Whereas the rich residents of Beverly Hills eat lettuce salad and steamed tofu with quinoa, in the slums and ghettos the poor gorge on Twinkie cakes, Cheetos, hamburgers and pizza. In 2014 more than 2.1 billion people were overweight, compared to 850 million who suffered from malnutrition. Half of humankind is expected to be overweight by 2030.4 In 2010 famine and malnutrition combined killed about 1 million people, whereas obesity killed 3 million.5

The light sesame ginger dressing goes perfectly with this Asian-inspired salad. 2 cups shredded romaine lettuce 1 cup shredded cabbage 2 scallions, finely chopped 1 large carrot, shredded or finely chopped 1 handful cilantro, chopped 1/2 avocado, pitted and chopped 2 cups shredded chicken 1/4 cup peanuts, roughly chopped, for serving LIGHT SESAME GINGER DRESSING 3 tablespoons sesame oil 1 teaspoon soy sauce 3 tablespoons rice vinegar 1 tablespoon honey 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds 11/2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced 1. In a large bowl, combine all the salad ingredients. 2. In a small bowl, combine all dressing ingredients and whisk thoroughly. 3. Toss the salad with the dressing or leave the dressing on the side. 4. Sprinkle with peanuts.

Well, somehow I felt if I sent Sally a donation, she would open the envelope herself and squeeze the cash into the hip pocket of her elastic- waist jeans. She would treat herself at Pizza Hut, using my envelope to dab pepperoni grease from her chin. I imagined her maybe having garlic cheese bread on the side and a salad of iceberg lettuce topped with blue- cheese dressing, Bacos and croutons.

Any meal at the front was an exercise in war-time ingenuity and devotion of the lower classes for their officers. The Petite Marmite a la Thermit was from beef-broth cubes, the tinned Canadian salmon was called Saumon de Tin A & Q Sauce. The Epaule d'Agneau Wellington, N.Z. was army ration lamb, and the terrine of foie gras aux truffes was a can of foie gras that I had bought from the French commanding general. There was a salad of fresh lettuce from somewhere (no one asked in what or whose fertilizer it had been grown in since we would all soon be dead anyway) and the Macedoine de Fruits a la Quatre Bas was a can of mixed fruit. Then fresh strawberries soaked in Cognac. All the usual wines starting with an amontillado, Pommery Extra Sec, Chateau Steenworde Claret, Graham's Five Crowns Port, Bisquit Dubouche Grande Champagne Cognac, Brandy and a Waterloo Cup.

Have a seat in a liberal restaurant, and you’re assaulted with all sorts of rules and information. No substitutions. Everything organic. They’ll tell you the name of the farm the lettuce comes from, the variety of tomato in the salad, and probably even the name of the hardworking chicken who donated the eggs. But they won’t ask you how you want your steak. They won’t ask you anything, actually. At liberal restaurants, they tell you what you’re going to have.

Did you forgive her?" I looked at her with a start. Jack dropped his salad back in the bucket. "What?" "Did you forgive Nikki?" "Umm,Mary,I don't think you-" I started, but Jack interrupted me. "No,it's okay.What do you mean, Mary?" He spoke slowly. "Did I forgive Nikki for what?" Mary frowned and reached under the separation glass and touched Jack's gloved hand. "Did you forgive her for leaving you?" Jack's lower lip sank,and his eyebrows lifted.He looked like he was about to speak,but no words came out of his open mouth. Mary leaned even closer and whispered, "I have a theory. A theory about anchors." "Oh," Jack finally said,his forehead now creased with confusion. "Anchors." The people in line behind Mary shifted impatiently. "Um,Mary,you're holding up the line," I said. Mary looked at me as I continued. "Why don't you go grab a table,and I'll eat with you." The tension slipped from her face. "Okay. But hurry. My tee time's at one." She started down the line again.Jack's hand still rested in the lettuce, so I nudged him with my elbow, and he seemed to restart. "Don't worry about her," I said. "She gets confused easily." "That wasn't confusion." Jack kept his eyes on my face as he served the salad. "It was like she knew me. Knew us.Did you talk to her about us?" "Of course not.She also knows about anchors,apparently.And she's late for her tee time.None of it makes sense.

Later in the meal, the full extent of Massimo's whimsy-driven modernist vision will be on display- in a handheld head of baby lettuce whose tender leaves hide the concentrated tastes of a Caesar salad, a glazed rectangle of eel made to look as if it were swimming up the Po River, a handful of classics with ridiculous names such as "Oops! I dropped the lemon tart"- but it's the ragù that moves me the most. The noodles have a brilliant, enduring chew, and the sauce, rich with gelatin from the tougher cuts of meat, clings to them as if its life were at stake.

BULLETPROOF TACO SALAD When I make this, I like to prepare extra meat and save it for another meal or even eat it by itself for a quick lunch the next day. This satisfying meal can easily be eaten for dinner, too. TACO MIX 1 pound grass-fed, organic fatty ground beef 2 tablespoons grass-fed unsalted butter or ghee ½ fresh lime, squeezed 1 to 2 tablespoons cayenne powder (warning: Suspect, don’t use if you’re sensitive!) 1 teaspoon dried oregano Sea salt to taste SALAD 1 cup spring lettuce ¼ cup shredded red cabbage 2 shredded carrots 1 cucumber, cut into slices ½ avocado, sliced “Creamy” Avocado Dressing To make the taco mix: In a medium pan, sauté the beef on medium-low until cooked gently but thoroughly. Your goal is not to brown the meat but to heat it enough that it’s cooked through. Burned, caramelized meat tastes good, but it causes food cravings. Drain the excess liquid. Add the butter or ghee, lime juice, cayenne powder, oregano, and salt. Add more seasoning if you wish and play around with flavors! To make the salad: Lay a bed with all of the salad ingredients, starting with the lettuce. Add a suitable portion of beef on top and then drizzle with dressing.

They have twenty-four one-hour sittings every day with only one table per sitting." Sam groaned as he closed his laptop. "I'd better grab some sandwiches on the way. It sounds like the kind of place you only get two peas and a sliver of asparagus on a piece of butter lettuce that was grown on the highest mountain peak of Nepal and watered with the tears of angels." "Not a fan of haute cuisine?" She followed him down the stairs and out into the bright sunshine. "I like food. Lots of it." He stopped at the nearest café and ordered three Reuben sandwiches, two Cobb salads, and three bottles of water. "Would you like anything?" he asked after he placed his order. Layla looked longingly as the server handed over his feast. "I don't want to ruin my appetite." She pointed to the baked-goods counter. "You forgot dessert." "I don't eat sugar." "Then the meal is wasted." She held open her handbag to reveal her secret stash. "I keep emergency desserts with me at all times- gummy bears, salted caramel chocolate, jelly beans, chocolate-glazed donuts- at least I think that's what they were, and this morning I managed to grab a small container of besan laddu and some gulab jamun.

by have a home in the first place? Good question! When I have a tea party for my grandchildren, I'm passing on to them the things my mama passed on to me-the value of manners and the joy of spending quiet time together. When Bob reads a Bible story to those little ones, he's passing along his deep faith. When we watch videos together, play games, work on projects-we're building a chain of memories for the future. These aren't lessons that can be taught in lecture form. They're taught through the way we live. What we teach our children-or any child who shares our lives-they will teach to their children. What we share with our children, they will share with generations to come. friend of mine loves the water, the out doors, and the California sunshine. She says they're a constant reminder of God's incredible creativity. Do you may have a patio or a deck or a small balcony? Bob and I have never regretted the time and expense of creating outdoor areas to spend time in. And when we sit outside, we enhance our experience with a cool salad of homegrown tomatoes and lettuce, a tall glass of lemonade, and beautiful flowers in a basket. Use this wonderful time to contemplate all God is doing in your life. ecome an answer to prayer! • Call and encourage someone today.

She pottered round now, a tall vague woman in her early fifties, with a long pale face and brown eyes which her daughter Deirdre had inherited. As she pottered she murmured to herself, ‘large knives, small knives, pudding spoons, will they need forks too? Oh, large forks, serving spoons, mats, glasses, well two glasses in case Deirdre and Malcolm want to drink beer, Rhoda probably won’t … and now, wash the lettuce …’ It was nice when the warm weather came and they could have salads for supper, she thought, though why it was nice she didn’t really know. Washing a lettuce and cutting up the things to go with it was really almost as much trouble as cooking a hot meal, and she herself had never got over an old-fashioned dislike of eating raw green leaves. When her husband had been alive they had always had a hot meal in the evenings, winter and summer alike. He needed it after a day in the City. But now he was gone and Rhoda had been living with them for nearly ten years now and everyone said how nice it was for them both, to have each other, though of course she had the children too. Malcolm was a good solid young man, very much like his father, reliable and, although of course she never admitted it, a little dull. He did not seem to mind about the hot meal in the evenings. But Deirdre was different, clever and moody, rather like she herself had been at the same age, before marriage to a good dull man and life in a suburb had steadied her.

There is no single food that affects people as deeply as bacon. Bacon appeals to our basest desires of meat and fat and salt. It elevates everything it touches, transforming a burger into a celebration, taking simple lettuce and tomato and making them more delicious than any salad vegetable has a right to be. Bacon is the ultimate polyamorous food, loving everyone equally, eggs and pancakes, sandwiches and salads, meats and vegetables, mains and sides, savory and sweet. Bacon on grilled cheese? Delicious. Bacon dipped in the maple syrup from your French toast? Sublime. Watch a breakfast buffet, and see where people consistently overindulge. I bet it will be the vat of bacon, which sends its smoky siren song out to everyone.

NORMAN’S EGG SALAD 4 cups peeled and chopped hard-boiled eggs.*** (That’s about a dozen extra large eggs—measure after chopping) 1/2 cup crumbled cooked bacon (make your own or use real crumbled bacon from a can—I used Hormel Premium Real Crumbled Bacon) 1 Tablespoon chopped parsley (it’s better if it’s fresh, but you can use dried parsley flakes if you don’t have fresh on hand) 1/4 cup grated carrots (for color and a bit of sweetness) 4 ounces cream cheese 1/4 cup sour cream 1/2 cup mayonnaise (I used Best Foods, which is Hellmann’s in some states) 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder (or 1/2 teaspoon freshly minced garlic) 1/2 teaspoon onion powder (or 1 teaspoon freshly minced onion) salt to taste freshly ground black pepper to taste   Peel and chop the hard-boiled eggs. Add the crumbled bacon, the parsley, and the grated carrots. Mix well.   Put the cream cheese in a small bowl and microwave for 30 seconds on HIGH to soften it. If it can be easily stirred with a fork, add the sour cream and mayonnaise, and mix well. If the cream cheese is still too solid, give it another 10 seconds or so before you add the other ingredients.   Stir in the garlic powder and onion powder.   Add the cream cheese mixture to the bowl with the eggs and stir it all up. Add salt and freshly ground pepper to taste, and chill until ready to serve.   Serve by itself on a lettuce leaf, as filling in a sandwich, or stuffed in Hannah’s Very Best Cream Puffs for a fancy luncheon.   Yield: Makes approximately a dozen superb egg salad sandwiches.

I ordered a salad with smoked salmon. I know that doesn't sound like a particularly decadent repast, but it is. That's because the French long ago mastered the art of serving salad so it doesn't feel like a punishment for something. There are always a few caramel-crusted potatoes on your salade niçoise, or a plump chicken liver or two bedded down in a nest of lamb's lettuce. A lot of this has to do with what is called a tartine- a large thin slice of country bread (Poilâne if you're lucky) topped with anything from melted goat cheese to shrimp and avocado. My lunch arrived, a well-worn wooden planche heaped with pillowy green lettuce, folded in a creamy, cloudy, mustardy vinaigrette. Balanced on top where three half slices of pain Poilâne, spread with the merest millimeter of butter, topped with coral folds of salmon.

Language cannot describe the anxieties, experiences, and exertions which Jo underwent that morning, and the dinner she served up became a standing joke. Fearing to ask any more advice, she did her best alone, and discovered that something more than energy and good will is necessary to make a cook. She boiled the asparagus for an hour and was grieved to find the heads cooked off and the stalks harder than ever. The bread burned black, for the salad dressing so aggravated her that she could not make it fit to ear. The lobster was a scarlet mystery to her, but she hammered and poked till it was unshelled and its meager proportions concealed in a grove of lettuce leaves. The potatoes had to be hurried, not to keep the asparagus waiting, and were not done at the last. The blancmange was lumpy, and the strawberries not as ripe as they looked, having been skilfully `deaconed'.

The next day they went to pick fragole di bosco, wild strawberries, and made love in a deserted old barn above the pastures, their lips still smeared with the pulp of the fruit. The next day it was misticanza, wild leaves for salad. Benedetta was scrupulous that they must always pick first. If anyone saw them walking home with empty baskets, she warned, tongues would start wagging instantly. So they filled their baskets with rocket, wild fennel, dandelion, and lamb's lettuce before temptation overcame them and they collapsed into a quiet corner of a field, hidden only by the tall fronds of the finocchio stalks. Bruno made her close her eyes, teasing her naked body with a spray of fennel: when he kissed her between her legs, the aniseed mingled with the faint, faraway taste of the sea. We were all fish once, he thought, and this is the proof of it, this whisper of oceans in the deepest recesses of the body.

The menu is spectacular. Passed hors d'oeuvres include caramelized shallot tartlets topped with Gorgonzola, cubes of crispy pork belly skewered with fresh fig, espresso cups of chilled corn soup topped with spicy popcorn, mini arepas filled with rare skirt steak and chimichurri and pickle onions, and prawn dumplings with a mango serrano salsa. There is a raw bar set up with three kinds of oysters, and a raclette station where we have a whole wheel of the nutty cheese being melted to order, with baby potatoes, chunks of garlic sausage, spears of fresh fennel, lightly pickled Brussels sprouts, and hunks of sourdough bread to pour it over. When we head up for dinner, we will start with a classic Dover sole amandine with a featherlight spinach flan, followed by a choice of seared veal chops or duck breast, both served with creamy polenta, roasted mushrooms, and lacinato kale. Next is a light salad of butter lettuce with a sharp lemon Dijon vinaigrette, then a cheese course with each table receiving a platter of five cheeses with dried fruits and nuts and three kinds of bread, followed by the panna cottas. Then the cake, and coffee and sweets. And at midnight, chorizo tamales served with scrambled eggs, waffle sticks with chicken fingers and spicy maple butter, candied bacon strips, sausage biscuit sandwiches, and vanilla Greek yogurt parfaits with granola and berries on the "breakfast" buffet, plus cheeseburger sliders, mini Chicago hot dogs, little Chinese take-out containers of pork fried rice and spicy sesame noodles, a macaroni-and-cheese bar, and little stuffed pizzas on the "snack food" buffet. There will also be tiny four-ounce milk bottles filled with either vanilla malted milk shakes, root beer floats made with hard root beer, Bloody Marys, or mimosas.

Gian Pero Frau, one of the most important characters in the supporting cast surrounding S'Apposentu, runs an experimental farm down the road from the restaurant. His vegetable garden looks like nature's version of a teenager's bedroom, a rebellious mess of branches and leaves and twisted barnyard wire. A low, droning buzz fills the air. "Sorry about the bugs," he says, a cartoonish cloud orbiting his head. But beneath the chaos a bloom of biodynamic order sprouts from the earth. He uses nothing but dirt and water and careful observation to sustain life here. Every leaf and branch has its place in this garden; nothing is random. Pockets of lettuce, cabbage, fennel, and flowers grow in dense clusters together; on the other end, summer squash, carrots, and eggplant do their leafy dance. "This garden is built on synergy. You plant four or five plants in a close space, and they support each other. It might take thirty or forty days instead of twenty to get it right, but the flavor is deeper." (There's a metaphor in here somewhere, about his new life Roberto is forging in the Sardinian countryside.) "He's my hero," says Roberto about Gian Piero. "He listens, quietly processes what I'm asking for, then brings it to life. Which doesn't happen in places like Siddi." Together, they're creating a new expression of Sardinian terreno, crossing genetic material, drying vegetables and legumes under a variety of conditions, and experimenting with harvesting times that give Roberto a whole new tool kit back in the kitchen. We stand in the center of the garden, crunching on celery and lettuce leaves, biting into zucchini and popping peas from their shells- an improvised salad, a biodynamic breakfast that tastes of some future slowly forming in the tangle of roots and leaves around us.

...but my favorite already-discovered aspect of critical thinking in cooking is the demand for thought experimentation when trying to innovate with food. For instance, today, I made you that crab salad (although the crab was actually just imitation crab), but anyways, I observed that there was this sweetness to the imitation crab, so I conducted a thought experiment with myself. I thought that the sweetness of the crab made the crab delicate, so I deduced that it would be best to use iceberg lettuce in the salad to enhance the delicacy of the crab, because iceberg lettuce is light and crisp, as opposed to cabbage, which is thicker and has a stronger and most likely overpowering flavor that may be incompatible with the delicacy of the crab. In that same thought experiment, I also thought that bell peppers would go well with the salad, because they also have a sweetness similar to the imitation crab, and they have a fresh flavor to them, so I thought it would compliment the crab. I also added that lite ranch dressing, because I knew that the lightness of the dressing would still be cohesively connected to the overall delicacy of the salad, and plus, a lot of the components in the salad were sweet, so the ranch balanced the ratio of sweetness to savoriness. Then, in the thought experiment, I reasoned that if I sprinkle sunflower seeds on it, the dish would be more elevated because of the nuttiness of the seeds. Overall, because of my experiment, the dish had most of the flavors that you and I wanted, but you did say that you wanted more vegetables to balance out the crab, so while we were eating, I conducted another thought experiment, where I thought, of course, about adding more vegetables, and I also thought about the possibilities of adding lemon juice or some citrus fruit like tangerines into my revised version of the salad.

Sidney, is that what you girls go for these days?” Kathleen asked, pointing toward her oldest son. “All this scruffy whatnot?” Well, nothing like putting her on the spot here. Personally, Sidney thought that the dark hint of scruff along Vaughn’s angular jaw looked fine. Better than fine, actually. She would, however, rather be trapped for the next thirty-six hours in a car with the crazy pregnant lady before admitting that in front of him. “I generally prefer clean-shaven men.” She shrugged—sorry—when Vaughn gave her the side-eye as he began setting the table. “See? If you don’t believe me, at least listen to her,” Kathleen said, while peeling a carrot over a bowl at the island. “If you want to find a woman of quality, you can’t be running around looking like you just rolled out of bed.” “I’ll keep that in mind. But for now, the ‘scruffy whatnot’ stays. I need it for an undercover role,” Vaughn said. Surprised to hear that, Sidney looked over as she dumped the tomatoes into a large salad bowl filled with lettuce. “You’re working undercover now?” “Well, I’m not in the other identity right this second,” Vaughn said. “I’m kind of guessing my mother would be able to ID me.” Thank you, yes, she got that. “I meant, how does that work?” Sidney asked him. “You just walk around like normal, being yourself, when you’re not . . . the other you?” “That’s exactly how it works. At least, when we’re talking about a case that involves only part-time undercover work.” “But what if I were to run into the other you somewhere? Say . . . at a coffee shop.” A little inside reference there. “If I called you ‘Vaughn’ without realizing that you were working, wouldn’t that blow your cover?” “First of all, like all agents who regularly do undercover work, I tell my friends and family not to approach me if they happen to run into me somewhere—for that very reason. Second of all, in this case, the ‘other me’ doesn’t hang out at coffee shops.” “Where does the other you hang out?” Sidney asked. Not to contribute to his already healthy ego, but this was pretty interesting stuff. “In dark, sketchy alleys doing dark, sketchy things,” Vaughn said as he set the table with salad bowls. “So the other you is a bad guy, then.” Sidney paused, realizing something. “Is what you’re doing dangerous?” “The joke around my office is that the agents on the white-collar crime squad never do anything dangerous.” Sidney noticed that wasn’t an actual answer to her question

BENFORD’S THAI CHICKEN SALAD (LARB GAI) Finely hand-chop lean chicken breasts with a large knife or cleaver. Season with lime juice and rice wine and sauté until crumbly and white. Let chicken cool and fold in lemongrass, diced garlic, diced chilies, lemon zest, fish sauce, salt, and pepper. Incorporate well. Add chopped cilantro, basil, mint, and scallions. Toss well; serve in lettuce cups with rice.

AUNT CAROL’S CRUNCHY SALAD Salad         2 tablespoons butter         1 package ramen noodles (like the $.13 package)         ½ cup or so of chopped almonds         Handful of sunflower seeds         4 to 6 cups sturdy lettuce (I like romaine)         2 cups or so of chopped broccoli         Some chopped green onions         You can add any crunchy thing: carrots, radishes, snap peas, cabbage Melt the butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the uncooked ramen noodles (break them all up), almonds, and sunflower seeds, and saute until toasted light brown. Maybe 3 to 4 minutes. Let cool. Pour the dressing (recipe below) into the bottom of your salad bowl. Add the lettuce, broccoli, green onions, and toasted crunch mix. Toss when ready to serve. Vinaigrette         4 tablespoons brown sugar         1 teaspoon salt         6 tablespoons rice wine vinegar         2 to 3 drops Tabasco         ½ cup oil (olive, sunflower, walnut, whatever oil you like. Aunt Carol uses canola oil, so no need to get trendy) Mix all the vinaigrette ingredients with a whisk (or just shake this all together in a mason jar if you want to control the quantity or make extra). This is so good. Cannot deal. Add chicken or shrimp, and it is a whole meal. This is a doldrum fixer. I’m so

...so even if spring continues to disappoint we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.

While I struggled with the menu, a handsome middle-aged guy from a nearby table came over to help. "You like sashimi? Cooked fish? Sushi?" he asked. His English was excellent. He was originally from Okinawa, he said, and a member of Rotary International. I know nothing about the Rotarians except that it's a service organization; helping befuddled foreigners order food in bars must fall within its definition of charitable service. Our service-oriented neighbor helped us order pressed sweetfish sushi, kisu fish tempura, and butter-sauteed scallops. Dredging up a vague Oishinbo memory, I also ordered broiled sweetfish, a seasonal delicacy said to taste vaguely of melon. While we started in on our sushi, our waitress- the kind of harried diner waitress who would call customers "hon" in an American restaurant- delivered a huge, beautiful steamed flounder with soy sauce, mirin, and chunks of creamy tofu. "From that guy," she said, indicating the Rotarian samaritan. We retaliated with a large bottle of beer for him and his friend (the friend came over to thank us, with much bowing). What would happen at your neighborhood bar if a couple of confused foreigners came in with a child and didn't even know how to order a drink? Would someone send them a free fish? I should add that it's not exactly common to bring children to an izakaya, but it's not frowned upon, either; also, not every izakaya is equally welcoming. Some, I have heard, are more clubby and are skeptical of nonregulars, whatever their nationality. But I didn't encounter any places like that. Oh, how was the food? So much of the seafood we eat in the U.S., even in Seattle, is previously frozen, slightly past its prime, or both. All of the seafood at our local izakaya was jump-up-and-bite-you fresh. This was most obvious in the flounder and the scallops. A mild fish, steamed, lightly seasoned, and served with tofu does not sound like a recipe for memorable eating, but it was. The butter-sauteed scallops, meanwhile, would have been at home at a New England seaside shack. They were served with a lettuce and tomato salad and a dollop of mayo. The shellfish were cooked and seasoned perfectly. I've never had a better scallop.

BLOKHIN’S KOREAN BARBECUED RIBS Rinse flanken-style ribs in cold water. In a separate bowl, mix soy sauce, brown sugar, rice wine, sesame oil, black pepper, and cayenne. Combine onion, garlic, pears, and ginger, and process to a smooth purée, then add to the soy mixture. Add toasted sesame seeds and a splash of water to thin. Pour marinade over ribs and toss to cover. Chill overnight, then bring to room temperature and discard marinade. Grill or broil until caramelized. Serve on lettuce leaves with ssamjang paste, pickled peppers, kimchi, cucumber salad, and steamed rice.

Chicken salad. Lettuce. Light mayo. Hold the onion and tomato.” I nodded. “I swear if you didn’t have an aversion to vaginas, I’d beg you to be my husband.” He smirked. “Plenty of women are beards to their fabulously gay husbands.” “Yeah, but we’d fight too much over our clothing budget. You’d shop us out of food and rent money.” “I bet you wouldn’t be complaining too much when your curvy little ass was decked out in designer duds.

On top of a goodly helping of baby lettuce, Grace placed a neat rectangle of grilled salmon, and then precisely five cherry tomatoes, five broccoli florets, five baby carrots, five cucumber slices, and five slices of green bell pepper. She liked the balance and symmetry of the meal she had made. Still, she liked almonds more, and daring to disrupt the balance of the universe, she threw in a spoonful of an unknown number.

In tofu, I saw the rifles and shotguns used to plug deer in soybean fields. In grains, I saw the birds, mice, and rabbits sliced and diced by combines. In cabbage, I saw caterpillars killed by insecticides, organic or not. In salad greens, I saw a whitetail cut open and dragged around the perimeter of a farm field, the scent of blood warning other deer not to eat the organic arugula and radicchio destined for upscale restaurants and grocery stores in San Francisco. In Joey’s kale and berries, I saw smoke-bombed burrows. Even in the vegetables from our garden—broccoli and green beans, lettuce and snap peas—I saw the wild grasses we uprooted, the earthworms we chopped with our shovels, the beetles I crushed between thumb and forefinger, the woodchucks I shot, and the dairy cows whose manure and carcasses fed the soil. In my own life and in the lives around me—heron and trout, hawk and hare, coyote and deer—I saw that the entire living, breathing, eating world was more beautiful and more terrible than I had imagined. Like Richard, I saw that sentient beings fed on sentient beings.

I’ll write the recipe down for you.” “I’ll just screw it up, anyway.” Gram laughed. “All you do is mix the ingredients together, pour it in a bag with the salmon and half an hour later give it to Sean to throw on the grill. He cooked the salmon to perfection tonight.” Of course he did. As he’d told her earlier, she had nothing to worry about because the Y chromosome came with an innate ability to master the barbecue grill. “The salad was good, too,” Sean said. “Thanks,” Emma muttered. “Even I can’t screw up shredding lettuce.” The man looked incredibly relaxed for somebody who'd probably been raked over the coals by his aunt and was now relaxing with two women he barely knew. She, on the other hand, felt as if she was detoxing. Jumpy. Twitching. A trickle of sweat at the small of her back. Sean stood and started gathering dishes, but held out a hand when Emma started to get up. “You ladies sit and visit. I’ll take care of the cleanup.” Once he was inside, Gram smiled and raised her eyebrows. “He does dishes, too? No wonder you snapped him up.” It was tempting to point out a few of his less attractive traits, like the fact that he was a sexist baboon who wouldn’t let her drive. But he was doing a good job of convincing Gram he was Emma’s Prince Charming, which was the whole point, so she bit back her annoyance with the Saint Sean routine. “He’s a keeper.

Dear Me, I made a jackass out of myself tonight. I couldn’t stop it. The second I saw Stacy, I sprouted big donkey ears and a tail. I don’t know why she gets under my skin. Why should I care what she thinks of me? She’ll be gone right along with Jason when Alana gets bored. Alana’s lasagna was terrible. No one noticed that I was slipping the harder pieces of it into my salad bowl and hiding them under the lettuce. It’s a good thing they don’t have a dog because if it was to eat the scraps, it would surely die. Jason and Stacy are gonna be shitting pasta shards. I feel sorry for Jason, not so much for Stacy. I’ll have to patch things up with Alana, so this may not be the right time to tell her that her cooking is lethal. She was pissed when I left her house. I’m sure she’ll tell Mom and Grammy I was a jerk. Jason was probably mad at me too. I feel a little bad about that. Me

Maybe tangled will be a spectacular rump. maybe i will adore it: it could happen. But one thing is for sure: tangled will not be rapunzel. And thats too bad , because rapunzel is an specially layered and relevant fairytale, less about the love between a man and a woman than the misguided attempts of a mother trying to protect her daughter from (what she perceives ) as the worlds evils. The tale, you may recall, begins with a mother-to-bes yearning for the taste of rapunzel, a salad green she spies growing in the garden of the sorceress who happens to live next door. The womans craving becomes so intense , she tells her husband that if he doesn't fetch her some, she and their unborn baby will die. So he steals into the baby's yard, wraps his hands around a plant, and, just as he pulls... she appears in a fury. The two eventually strike a bargain: the mans wife can have as much of the plant as she wants- if she turns over her baby to the witch upon its birth. `i will take care for it like a mother,` the sorceress croons (as if that makes it all right). Then again , who would you rather have as a mom: the woman who would do anything for you or the one who would swap you in a New York minute for a bowl of lettuce? Rapunzel grows up, her hair grows down, and when she is twelve-note that age-Old Mother Gothel , as she calls the witch. leads her into the woods, locking her in a high tower which offers no escape and no entry except by scaling the girls flowing tresses. One day, a prince passes by and , on overhearing Rapunzel singing, falls immediately in love (that makes Rapunzel the inverse of Ariel- she is loved sight unseen because of her voice) . He shinnies up her hair to say hello and , depending on the version you read, they have a chaste little chat or get busy conceiving twins. Either way, when their tryst is discovered, Old Mother Gothel cries, `you wicked child! i thought i had separated you from the world, and yet you deceived me!` There you have it : the Grimm`s warning to parents , centuries before psychologists would come along with their studies and measurements, against undue restriction . Interestingly the prince cant save Rapuzel from her foster mothers wrath. When he sees the witch at the top of the now-severed braids, he jumps back in surprise and is blinded by the bramble that breaks his fall. He wanders the countryside for an unspecified time, living on roots and berries, until he accidentally stumbles upon his love. She weeps into his sightless eyes, restoring his vision , and - voila!- they rescue each other . `Rapunzel` then, wins the prize for the most egalitarian romance, but that its not its only distinction: it is the only well-known tale in which the villain is neither maimed nor killed. No red-hot shoes are welded to the witch`s feet . Her eyes are not pecked out. Her limbs are not lashed to four horses who speed off in different directions. She is not burned at the stake. Why such leniency? perhaps because she is not, in the end, really evil- she simply loves too much. What mother has not, from time to time, felt the urge to protect her daughter by locking her in a tower? Who among us doesn't have a tiny bit of trouble letting our children go? if the hazel branch is the mother i aspire to be, then Old Mother Gothel is my cautionary tale: she reminds us that our role is not to keep the world at bay but to prepare our daughters so they can thrive within it. That involves staying close but not crowding them, standing firm in one`s values while remaining flexible. The path to womanhood is strewn with enchantment , but it also rifle with thickets and thorns and a big bad culture that threatens to consume them even as they consume it. The good news is the choices we make for our toodles can influence how they navigate it as teens. I`m not saying that we can, or will, do everything `right,` only that there is power-magic-in awareness.

This was the salad bowl in which Lettuce would meet his end.

WEEK#1 SHOPPING LIST   *FRUITS & VEGETABLES ALL ORGANIC AND/OR WILD *MEATS FREE RANGE, NO ANTIBIOTICS OR HORMONES ADDED *FISH OCEAN WISE & WILD *Remember to always read the ingredients and check for added sugars, chemicals and MSG etc.   1 LEMON 2 LIMES 4 MEDIUM YELLOW ONIONS 1 BUNDLE ORGANIC GREEN ONIONS 1 RED ONION 1 GINGER ROOT 2 WHOLE GARLIC 1 BUNDLE OF ASPARGUS 2 CAULIFLOWER HEADS 2 ORGANIC RED PEPPERS 2 GREEN PEPPERS 3 AVOCADOS 1 PACK BOK CHOY 15 ORGANIC TOMATOES 1 SPAGHETTI SQUASH 3 SWEET POTATOES 1 YAM 2 BUNDLES OF ORGANIC BROCCOLI 6 ZUCCHINI 4 CARROTS 3 BEETS 12-15 BROWN MUSHROOMS 1 SMALL BAG/BOX ARUGULA SALAD 1 BUNDLE OF ROMAINE LETTUCE 1 BUNDLE FRESH BASIL   2 APPLES 1 BANANA 1 SMALL PACKAGE FRESH OR FROZEN WILD BLUEBERRIES 1 ORANGE   2 PACKAGES FREE RANGE NO ANTIOBIOTIC EGGS (24 TOTAL)   1 20oz (750Ml) TOMATO SAUCE 1 CAN 14OZ TOMATO PUREE 2 8oz (250mL) CANS COCONUT CREAM 2 16oz (500mL) CANS COCONUT MILK 1 12OZ CAN PUMPKIN PUREE   JAR OF OLIVES (no sugars added)   1 - ½ LB SMALL BAG (200G) OF REAL CRAB MEAT 2 – 2 LB BAGS (400G EACH) OF FROZEN WILD SHRIMP & SCALLOP MEDLEY 1 LARGE PIECE WILD SOCKEY SALMON (FRESH) 1 LB BEEF SIRLOIN 1LB GROUND BEEF 1 ½ LB (750G) NO-ANTIOBIOTIC CHICKEN SLICES 4 NO-ANTIOBIOTIC ALL NATURAL CHICKEN BREAST 7OZ (400G) ORGANIC GROUND TURKEY 1 PACKAGE MSG-FREE, NO NITRATE BACON   100G DRIED FRUIT (BLUEBERRIES, CRANBERRIES) 200G HAZELNUTS 100G ALMONDS 100G CASHEWS 100 WALNUTS 100G SESAME SEEDS 50G PUMPKIN SEEDS   1 BOTTLE NO SULFITE ORGANIC WHITE WINE (OPTIONAL)  

2 grilled chicken breasts, diced 1 avocado, peeled and diced 5-6 green lettuce leaves, cut in stripes 3-4 green onions, finely chopped 5-6 radishes, sliced 7-8 grape tomatoes 2 tbsp lemon juice 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 1 tsp dried mint salt and black pepper, to taste

If only Tim had gone to the goddamn store like his mother had asked him, none of this would have happened. Mom had wanted some goddamn lettuce so she could make a goddamn salad for goddamn dinner tonight. Tim might not have been so pissed at her for getting upset with him because he'd stumbled into the house drunk last night and wandered into her bedroom where she was sleeping, and thrown up on her. Maybe if she hadn't taken a curtain rod to his hung-over body in the morning as he slept it off - in his own bed, mind you - he might have gone to the goddamn store and gotten her the goddamn lettuce she wanted. But no, to hell with her. People make mistakes. That didn't mean they should be bludgeoned to within an inch of their life, especially not with a goddamn curtain rod.

He’s wrong, you know. However glorified he made it sound. Maybe my perspective is skewed, but that’s not how I recall it.” I pulled out a head of lettuce and a knife. “After you, everything seems mediocre.” Mason walked over and leaned on the counter next to me. “Thanks. Even if you’re only saying that to make me feel better.” I placed the lettuce on a cutting block and chopped it for salad. “I’m not just saying that. You were there. You should know. It wasn’t just sex. It was super freaking hot and unlike any other experience I’ve had.” He grinned. “Hearing you talk like that has me pretty turned on, but the way you’re murdering that lettuce has me kind of intimidated, as well.” I laughed and set the knife down. “I’m sorry. I’m just so pissed. I can’t believe he was talking about any of this.” “I really don’t think he was doing it to be an ass, honest. He was talking, thinking about the past.” Mason grabbed my hands and pulled me to his chest. “It just sucked to hear on my end and, if anything, I should be the one murdering the lettuce right now.” He tilted my chin up and kissed me. “Do you maybe have a tomato or something I can take my aggression out on?” “Cucumber?” “There’s some symbolism there. A little dark and disturbing, but I like it.” Laughing, I pulled the cucumber out of the small refrigerator. “Have at it.” He set it on the cutting block and picked up the knife. “You sure you don’t want to hack into this one?” “It’s all you.” I moved the lettuce to a big bowl then set it in front of Mason, who was moving the cucumber around the cutting board, seemingly unsure where to start. “You’re supposed to be murdering it, not trying to score a second date.” “I’m going to be honest. It feels a little barbaric.” I bit back a smile. “Okay, well, when you’re done sweet-talking the cucumber, will you coax it into the salad bowl for me?” “Why? You going to toss it for me?” “Yes, Mason. I’m going to toss your salad.” He rubbed his chin. “Okay, why not.” I nudged him out of the way and started cutting the cucumber myself. “Stop corrupting my dinner.” “Hey.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “I’m just helping. I have no idea what you’re talking about

Then he closed his eyes and said grace silently. I noticed that any meal set before Andy was given respect. Dinners in diners--frozen shrimp with canned tomato sauce, canned vegetables, salads made with the worst part of the lettuce. And then chocolate and vanilla ice cream for dessert. "I'll pay extra for it if I have to," Andy said to the waitress.

Mel was just here. She’s complaining about the food.” “Huh?” Jack answered. “Mel?” “Yeah. She says my food is making her fat.” Jack chuckled. “Oh, that. Yeah, she’s making noises about that. Don’t worry about it.” “She didn’t make it sound like I shouldn’t worry about it. She was pretty much loaded for bear.” “She had two babies in fourteen months, plus a hysterectomy. And—she doesn’t like to be reminded about this—she’s getting older in spite of herself. Women get a little thicker. You know.” “How do you know that?” “Four sisters,” Jack said. “It’s all women ever worry about—the size of their butts and boobs. And thighs—thighs come up a lot.” “She yelled at me,” he said, still kind of startled. Paul laughed and Jack just shook his head. “Did you tell her that?” Preacher asked. “About women getting thicker with age?” “Do I look like I have a death wish? Besides, I don’t think she’s getting fat—but my opinion about that doesn’t count for much.” “She wants salads. And fresh fruit.” “How hard is that?” Jack asked. “Not hard,” Preacher said with a shrug. “But I don’t stuff that pie down her neck every day.” A sputter of laughter escaped Paul, and Jack said, “You’re gonna want to watch that, Preach.” “She wants me to use less butter and cream, take a few calories out of my food. Jack, it isn’t going to taste as good that way. You can’t make sauces and gravies without cream, butter, fat, flour. People love that stuff, salmon in dill sauce, fettuccine Alfredo, stuffed trout, brisket and garlic mash. Stews with thick gravy. People come a long way for my food.” “Yeah, I know, Preach. You don’t have to change everything—but make Mel a little something, huh? A salad, a broiled chicken breast, fish without the cream sauce, that kind of thing. You know what to do. Right?” “Of course. You don’t think she wants everyone in this town on a diet? Because she says it’s not healthy, the way I cook.” “Nah. This is a phase, I think. But if you don’t want to hear any more about it, just give her lettuce.” He grinned. “And an apple instead of the pie.” Preacher shook his head. “See, I think no matter what she says, that’s going to make her pissy.” “She said it’s what she wants, right?” “Right.” “May the force be with you,” Jack said with a grin.

Another key to a perfect salad is the sauce, or vinaigrette. Most people don’t think of vinaigrette as a sauce but it is one of the most important in the French repertoire. It always includes mustard, and shallot, garlic, or chives, either vinegar or lemon juice, and most often peanut oil, though olive and canola oil are rapidly becoming more common. The proportions are 1 tablespoon vinegar, 1 teaspoon mustard, ¼ cup (60ml) oil, a pinch of salt. There can be more to a vinaigrette. Try adding a bit of soy sauce (1 teaspoon) when you add the vinegar, mix oils or use just a nut oil—hazelnut and walnut are my favorites, but almond and peanut oil are delicious, too. You can add different herbs aside from the traditional chives—try tarragon, mint, thyme, basil, or fennel fronds—a flavored mustard, a mix of ground peppercorns. One vital tip for making a great salad, whether green, composed, or otherwise, is to thoroughly toss the leaves in the vinaigrette. Some people ask me if they should toss salad with their hands. My resounding response is “Ugh.” Apparently someone at some time said the French do this but I’ve never witnessed this behavior and cannot imagine anything worse. The best utensils for tossing salad are a wooden spoon and fork, though you can use whatever is easiest for you. The point is to fatiguer la salade, tire out the lettuce, by lifting it up and out of the bowl, turning it, and letting it fall back into the bowl as many times as it takes for the lettuce leaves to begin to feel heavy. When they do, they’re perfectly dressed. And finally, toss the lettuce right before you plan to serve the salad. You cannot do this in advance. The acid in the vinaigrette begins to “cook” the leaves almost immediately—they’ll soon be wilted and soft if they’re left to sit.

Speaking of mangoes, one delicious alternative meal is mango salsa, which you can make by chopping mangoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, celery, cilantro, and garlic (if desired) in the food processor. Serve in cucumber boats, lettuce wraps, or over greens. And in place of the avocado-orange juice salad dressing, try mashing up some guacamole, topping your salad with it, then sprinkling the whole thing with lime juice. Another great detox dish is a food-processor grind-up of apples and cauliflower or apples and cabbage.

Remember to include different kinds of lettuce and greens, tomatoes, shredded onion, and at least one shredded raw cruciferous vegetable in your salad every day. For added veggies, choose from red and green bell peppers, cucumbers, carrots, bean sprouts, shredded red or green cabbage, chopped white and red onion, lightly sautéed mushrooms, lightly steamed and sliced zucchini, raw and lightly steamed beets and carrots, snow peas, broccoli, cauliflower, and radishes. Add different types of beans as well as some cooked vegetables for variety.

Day 5 BREAKFAST Banana Cashew Lettuce Wrap* LUNCH Huge salad with assorted vegetables and bottled low-sodium/ no-oil dressing, flavored vinegar, or Orange Sesame Dressing* Leftover White Bean and Kale Soup* or low-sodium purchased vegetable bean soup One fresh or frozen fruit. Try apples or peaches dipped in Ceylon cinnamon. Ceylon cinnamon doesn’t have the high levels of potentially liver-damaging coumarin that cassia cinnamon has. DINNER Raw vegetables with Super Simple Hummus* or bottled low-sodium/ no-oil dressing Portobellos and Beans* Fresh or frozen cooked spinach or other vegetable One fresh or frozen fruit. Try semi-defrosted frozen mango. It’s fantastic!

Q: What do you get when an epileptic falls into a lettuce patch? A: Seizure salad.

Papaya, 1 small Parsnips, 2 Red-skinned potatoes, 1¼ pounds Romaine lettuce, 1 bunch Russet (baking) potatoes, 2 pounds Salad greens of choice, at least 6 cups (kale and/or spinach and/or arugula) (if you can find it, baby kale is more tender so it’s a nice choice for salads) Scallions, 1 bunch Spinach, 1 large bunch Strawberries, 1 pound Sweet potato, 4 medium Swiss chard, 1 bunch Tomatoes, grape, 1 small box Tomatoes, plum, 1½ pounds

Muddy Waters he play in the river Joan Rivers she play in the mud Swami guru play in a big salad bowl Counting lettuce and chewing his cud

The Other Pigskin Once you put bacon in a salad, it’s no longer a salad. It just becomes a game of Find the Bacon in the Lettuce. JIM GAFFIGAN

Healthy Waldorf Salad Waldorf salad is just one of those recipes that consistently amazes. It’s a great culinary invention and is one of my favorite dishes. It is simple yet it can easily become the best part about a meal. There are many different varieties and ways to customize, all of which are awesome. This recipe cuts out some of the fat, oil, and calories used in other recipes. Instead of using heavy cream and mayo, it uses yogurt and lemon juice. Feel free to customize, however you wish. Ingredients – - 1/4 cup of Yogurt - 1 Tablespoon of Fresh Lemon Juice - 1/2 teaspoon of Salt - 1/2 teaspoon of Pepper - Around 2 cups of Apple or roughly one large Apple, cored and cut into bite size pieces - 1/2 cup of Celery, thinly sliced - 1/2 cup of Grapes, halfed - 1/2 cup of Walnuts, chopped - 3/4 cup of Lettuce - 2 teaspoons of Honey Directions- In a large bowl, whisk together Yogurt and Fresh Lemon Juice. Stir in Salt and Pepper. Mix in Apple, Celery, and Grapes. Toast the Walnuts. Mix in Walnuts and Lettuce. Top salad with Honey. Serve.

LOW-HISTAMINE SUBSTITUTES Instead of . . . Choose . . . Refined sugar Maple sugar or maple syrup Vinegar-based salad dressing Olive oil with sea salt Cheese Macadamia-nut butter Wheat Rice, oats, or corn (yeast-free) Coffee Chamomile tea Alcohol Smoothies Pepper or chili Seasoning with sea salt and oregano, garlic, sage, or rosemary Wheat cereal Oatmeal with maple syrup Wheat pasta Brown-rice pasta or brown rice Processed milks that contain pesticides, carrageenan, and other additives Macadamia milk (in a blender, blend macadamia nuts or macadamia-nut butter with water; oat milk and rice milk are also healthful and low in histamine, provided they are free of preservatives, carrageenan, and other additives) Spinach or arugula Kale or other lettuces Eggplant Squash A candy bar A brown-rice cake with maple syrup and macadamia-nut butter Canned soups Fresh vegetable soup, made with filtered water, pureed vegetables, garlic, and salt

When Miss Petitfour made a fancy salad, Minky watched the way the lettuce leaves bent under the slight weight of the Parmesan; when Miss Petitfour had cheese toast for tea, Minky noticed how the cheddar melted into every little crevice and crater of the toast. She licked her whiskers greedily when Miss Petitfour lowered her hand to feed her snippets and smidgens, pinches and wedges, slices and crumbs. Minky loved all cheese--Swiss cheese, Edam cheese, Gruyere and Roquefort, Brie cheese and blue cheese, mozzarella and Parmesan, hard cheese, crumbly cheese, creamy cheese, lumpy cheese. Minky even had a cheese calendar that she kept with, which Miss Petitfour had given to her for Christmas. Each month there was a big picture of a different kind of cheese in a mouthwatering pose: blue cheese cavorting with pears, cheddar laughing with apples, Gruyere lounging with grapes, Edam joking with parsley.

In fifth grade, I remember my best friend, Vicki DeMattia, opening her lunch box and finding a note from her mother. I love you, Vicki! Sometimes Mrs. DeMattia included more, like what they would do together after school or how many kisses Vicki owed her from their Monopoly game the previous night. I got notes from Anjoli, too. They were typed and left on the dining room table. They went something like this: Lucy: I’m at the theatre tonight and won’t be home till after you’re asleep. On the table, please find ten dollars for dinner. Be sure to include a vegetable and a green salad. Rinse lettuce thoroughly. Pesticides can kill you. Anjoli.

The word salad here means any vegetable eaten raw or uncooked, e.g., a bowl of cold pasta in olive oil with a token vegetable is not a salad. I encourage my patients to eat two huge salads a day, with the goal of consuming an entire head of romaine or other green lettuce daily. I

Sorrel always thought herself happy in the little village by the sea. She was content among her flowers and specimen trees, the extraordinary roses and lilacs, sweet peas and hydrangeas that bloomed- somehow simultaneously and for months beyond reason- in the Nursery. She found great pleasure in picking the pears, cherries, and apples for Nettie's tarts, the tender young peas and beans, the lettuce so green it glowed, and the nasturtiums and violas that her sister used in her salads. She was grateful for Patience's remedies on the rare occasion when she felt ill. But Sorrel's hands were happiest deep in the soil and curled around the stems of the flowers she grew and arranged.

A one-pound box of prewashed lettuce contains 80 calories of food energy. According to Cornell ecologist David Pimentel, growing, chilling, washing, packaging, and transporting that box of organic salad to a plate on the East Coast takes more than 4,600 calories of fossil fuel energy, or 57 calories of fossil fuel energy for every calorie of food. (These figures would be about 4 percent higher if the salad were grown conventionally.) I

Keep in mind that we harvest many of the crops continuously, if possible. For example, a leaf lettuce is not allowed to wait until it forms a large, mature head, but with a pair of scissors and a salad bowl you can continuously trim the leaves from such things as lettuce, chives, beets, Swiss chard, spinach, parsley, and even onion tops. As long as you don’t take too much at one time, the plant will easily survive and thrive. Filling your salad bowl each day should not diminish the garden in any way. In fact, right after you harvest you’ll find it hard to notice where you got everything and if anything is missing.

The first step to accumulate new wisdom is to get rid of the old dogma. Giving up junk food completely gives you more benefit than eating a salad in addition to your junk food. A piece of lettuce in a burger doesn’t make it healthy, because you are still consuming junk. So, give it up!

For several long seconds it seemed that I would simply remain as such, tossed and thrashed like an over-wet side salad. But I was no mere lettuce leaf. I was a main course all of my own.

In terms of the validate-early or validate-late debate, while I do see merit in both arguments, I have to come down on the side of the late validators. Again, it’s a matter of trust. When you validate early, every other module or routine that processes the data has to trust that the validation actually was performed and was performed correctly. A colleague of mine refers to this as the “Lettuce Issue.” She says that while the grocery store may claim to sell you pre-washed lettuce, she always washes it again herself before she makes her salads, since that’s the only way to really be sure. The same principle applies to input validation: give that user input a good thorough washing right before you use it.

one-pound box of prewashed lettuce contains 80 calories of food energy. According to Cornell ecologist David Pimentel, growing, chilling, washing, packaging, and transporting that box of organic salad to a plate on the East Coast takes more than 4,600 calories of fossil fuel energy, or 57 calories of fossil fuel energy for every calorie of food. (These

Good fried chicken was remarkably hard to come by in New York, but this---tender, with just enough crust-only bits protruding, skin peeling easily away from the meat---this was good. The fries were thin and still hot, some with crunch, some with bite, lightly sprinkled with the salt blend they'd always used. The biscuits were fresh and flaky, and the salad's iceberg lettuce was dressed in Mimi's trademark sweet oil dressing---a closely guarded (but really very simple, and once very common) recipe.

A salad fork can be used to pierce a crisp bed of romaine lettuce just as easily as it could be used to stab someone’s eye. There is no bad magic or good magic; there is just magic. It is a natural part of our world and a natural part of each of us.

A plate of lobster rolls came next, followed by a romaine lettuce salad in a cut-glass bowl topped with fresh pear slices, walnuts, cranberries, and blue cheese crumbles. Glasses of sparkling water. "Apple dumplings for dessert," said Amelia, as she settled on the chair Cade held for her. She gave him a soft smile, patted his hand. "Help yourselves.

Peanut-Lime Dressing Makes about 1 3/4 cups 1/4 cup freshly squeezed lime juice 1 tablespoon fish sauce 1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar 1 teaspoon soy sauce 1 tablespoon finely grated ginger 1/4 cup peanut butter 1/2 jalapeño pepper, stemmed and sliced 3 tablespoons neutral-tasting oil 1 garlic clove, sliced Optional: 1/4 cup coarsely chopped cilantro leaves Place all the ingredients in a blender or food processor and blend until smooth. Thin with water to desired consistency—leave it thick to use as a dip, and thin it out to dress salads, vegetables, or meat. Taste with a leaf of lettuce, then adjust salt and acid as needed. Refrigerate leftovers, covered, for up to 3 days. Ideal for cucumbers, rice or soba noodles, romaine, and serving alongside grilled or roasted chicken, steak, or pork.

Red Wine Vinaigrette Makes about 1/2 cup 1 tablespoon finely diced shallot 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar 6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil Salt Freshly ground black pepper In a small bowl or jar, let the shallot sit in the vinegar for 15 minutes to macerate (see page 118), then add the olive oil, a generous pinch of salt, and a small pinch of pepper. Stir or shake to combine, then taste with a leaf of lettuce and adjust salt and acid as needed. Cover and refrigerate leftovers for up to 3 days. Ideal for garden lettuces, arugula, chicories, Belgian endive, Little Gem and romaine lettuce, beets, tomatoes, blanched, grilled, or roasted vegetables of any kind, and for Bright Cabbage Slaw, Fattoush, Grain or Bean Salad, Greek Salad, Spring Panzanella.

Every day at noon, Saban eats the same exact lunch—a salad with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and turkey slices served in a Styrofoam container. Automating his lunch decision allows Saban to focus on more important tasks at hand. That minor decision is eliminated.1 Saban says that if you can “Eliminate the clutter and all the things that are going on outside and focus on the things that you can control with how you sort of go about and take care of your business. That's something that's ongoing, and it can never change.

Serena slid her tray along the metal counter, choosing a lemon yogurt and skipping all the hot lunch selections until she came to the hot-water dispenser, where she filled up a cup with hot water and placed a Lipton tea bag, a slice of lemon, and a packet of sugar on the saucer. Then she carried her tray over to the salad bar, where she filled up a plate with a pile of romaine lettuce and poured a small puddle of bleu cheese dressing beside it. She would have preferred a toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich in the Gare du Nord in Paris, eaten in a hurry before leaping onto her London train, but this was almost as good. It was the same lunch she’d eaten at Constance every day since sixth grade.

Connie and I had vodka gimlets to start, and we both went for Leroy’s special of the day: a grilled grouper sandwich with spicy french fries, served with a salad of Bibb lettuce, red onions, and a vinaigrette sauce. A winner. Connie attacked her food with enthusiasm and didn’t mention a word about proteins, cholesterol, or fat, for which I was thankful. Nutrition nuts are the world’s most boring dining companions. They make every bite a guilt trip, which forces me to gorge to prove my disdain for calories. I mean, if God had wanted us to nibble, He wouldn’t have created veal cordon bleu.

Serena slid her tray along the metal counter, choosing a lemon yogurt and skipping all the hot lunch selections until she came to the hot-water dispenser, where she filled up a cup with hot water and placed a Lipton tea bag, a slice of lemon, and a packet of sugar on the saucer. Then she carried her tray over to the salad bar, where she filled up a plate with a pile of romaine lettuce and poured a small puddle of bleu cheese dressing beside it. She would have preferred a toasted ham-and-cheese sandwich in the Gare du Nord in Paris, eaten in a hurry before leaping onto her London train, but this was almost as good.

TOP SPERMIDINE SOURCES (MILLIGRAM PER 100-GRAM SERVING UNLESS OTHERWISE SPECIFIED)   1.   9.7 mg: tempeh351,352   2.   9.2 mg: mushrooms353,354   3.   9.2 mg: pig pancreas (1 oz)355   4.   8.2 mg: natto (1 oz)356   5.   6.1 mg: mango (one, 210 g)357,358   6.   5.9 mg: edamame359,360   7.   5.8 mg: green peas361,362   8.   5.7 mg: cheddar (aged one year, 1 oz)363   9.   5.5 mg: lentil soup (1 cup)364 10.   5.1 mg: soybeans365 11.   4.4 mg: lettuce366 12.   4.3 mg: polenta367 13.   4.3 mg: corn368,369 14.   3.8 mg: soymilk (1 cup)370 15.   3.8 mg: mussels371 16.   3.7 mg: broccoli372,373 17.   3.4 mg: cow intestine374 18.   2.9 mg: chickpeas375 19.   2.8 mg: cauliflower376,377 20.   2.7 mg: celeriac378 21.   2.6 mg: yellow peas379 22.   2.5 mg: wheat germ (1 Tb)380 23.   2.5 mg: french fries381 24.   2.4 mg: oysters382 25.   2.4 mg: lentils383 26.   2.4 mg: adzuki beans384,385,386 27.   2.3 mg: eel livers (1 oz)387 28.   2.2 mg: salad388 29.   2.1 mg: popcorn (50 g)389 30.   2.0 mg: kidney beans

FAIRY BACONMOTHER: [waves bacon wand over the salad] [SOUND EFFECT of magic dust: Brrrring!] FAIRY BACONMOTHER: Bibbity, Bobbity, Bacon! WOMAN: Oh my! You just turned it into a delicious entrée. Thank you, Fairy Baconmother! Of course, once you put bacon in a salad, it’s no longer a salad. It just becomes a game of find the bacon in the lettuce. I always feel like I’m panning for gold. “Found one! Eureka!

The bartender moves off, and I go back to skimming page five of the menu. I’ve made it to salads. Or at least that’s what they’re calling them, though if you put ranch dressing and Doritos on a bed of lettuce, I think you’re taking liberties with the word. When the bartender returns, I try to order the Greek. She winces. “You sure?” “Not anymore.

Buster's daughters certainly hadn't spared any expense, and, surprisingly, had chosen the perfect dishes--- ham biscuits, maple ham slices with artichoke relish, golden pimento mac and cheese, and a tray of salad. Not a morsel of frozen seafood in sight! Of course, I gave all the credit to the caterer, one of the best in Charleston. I was impressed by the beautiful blend of lettuces, Bibb, frisée, and red oak.

restaurants would have a “salad bar” offering lettuce, tomato, onion, egg, pretend-bacon bits, Cheez Whiz and a Special House Dressing made by pouring ketchup out of a bottle, tended by an employee chosen on the basis of listlessness, whose job would be to make sure that all of these ingredients had been slopped over into each other’s compartments.

We are cooking together again, and he asked me to pick up some salad greens and a loaf of something "Italian-ish," so my tote bag is brimming with bunches of peppery arugula and tender lamb's lettuce and a half loaf of Rick's pane pugliese, a crusty Italian peasant bread with a delicate, open crumb and slightly sour, caramel flavor. For dessert, I decided to buy half of one of Rick's rhubarb crumble tarts---vanilla custard encased in a tender shortbread crust and topped with roasted chunks of ruby rhubarb and a buttery oatmeal crumble

It only takes spinach about a week to go from seed to seedling, and then forty days later, you can expect to harvest your plants and toss them in a salad. In that time, our system will not need to have its water changed so long as the nutrient solution to plant ratio remains at one plant to one gallon. A pH level between 6.0 and 7.5 is necessary. This pH level is mostly within the ranges that lettuce likes as well, and this means that the two plants can be grown together in a single Kratky system, though lettuce will harvest a week or two earlier than spinach does.

Of course, once you put bacon in a salad, it’s no longer a salad. It just becomes a game of find the bacon in the lettuce.

Never, ever bring salad to a post-funeral gathering. I mean the kind with lettuce, of course. For two reasons, 1. It turns brown and reminds people of death when they're already at a funeral, and 2. It's good for you. I can't stress this enough: Healthy food is not comforting. Ever. In fact, in my experience, having healthy food options alongside the hash brown casserole can actually cause anxiety. Acceptable alternatives are a congealed salad with fruit suspended in it, a three-bean salad, or cornbread salad.

The lasagna filled a huge roasting pan, covered in thick browned cheese that was crispy in the corners. "Get me a corner piece, and I'll owe you one," Sanna whispered to Isaac, who sat closer to the pan. "I'll hold you to that." He scooped the darkest corner onto her plate with a wink that caused Sanna's heart to skip. She wished she could come up with a pithy response, but instead she turned her attention to the food, unable to find her words. The garlic bread was made from a local bakery's signature item, the giant Corsica loaf. It was slathered in sesame seeds and baked in olive oil so the bottom was crispy yet dripping. Mrs. Dibble had carved huge slices, coated each with garlic butter, then warmed it until the butter soaked in. The salad rounded it out, something light to balance all the heavy food so you could keep nibbling on lettuce to stretch the time at the table. "Sanna, why don't you pull out a few bottles of cider for dinner?" Einars said. Glad for distraction, Sanna brought out three large bottles she had in the fridge, all from the same batch- toasty brown. Not the most appetizing color, but it was the best match to go with a dinner like this one. It was a nearly still, unfiltered scrumpy style that was layered and complex, but not sweet and not dry. It wasn't acidic, so it didn't compete with the tomato sauce, and the subtle apple notes didn't confuse the palate with too many conflicting flavors. It was refreshing and smooth, a dark amber in color with bits of sediment floating around. She poured it into stemless glasses for each of the adults and enjoyed how the evening light got trapped, making the liquid glow when she held it up in a beam of evening summer sunlight.

We planned the menu together: butter lettuce salad with a shallot, lemon, and caper vinaigrette, a huge tomahawk steak to share, wild mushroom risotto, and steamed broccolini, with a pistachio soufflé for dessert. Marcy dropped off some chocolate sablé cookies and caramelized white chocolate truffles last night to add to the party, as well as a gorgeous zucchini bread with chocolate chips "for breakfast," she said, winking.

I take the roasting pan of braised chicken thighs with shallots and tomatoes and mushrooms in a white wine Dijon sauce out of the fridge and pop it in the oven to reheat. I dump the celery root potato puree out of its tub and into my slow cooker to gently warm, then grab the asparagus that I steamed yesterday and set it on the counter to take the chill off. I pull the butter lettuce I bought at Whole Foods out and separate the leaves into a bowl, filling it with cool water as I go, and when they are clean, I pop them into my salad spinner and whizz the crap out of them. They go into the big wooden salad bowl I got in Morocco. When dinnertime comes I'll chop the asparagus and add it to the salad along with some tiny baby marinated artichokes, no bigger than olives, toss with a peppery vinaigrette. The sourdough baguette I picked up goes into the table intact; I love to just let guests tear pieces off at the table. The three cheeses I snagged at the cheese counter get set to the side so that they will be appropriately room temp by the time I serve them after dinner. I might not be French, but all those years there have stuck, and I simply cannot have dinner without some cheese after.

I've ordered ice-cold ficoide in truffle vinaigrette. Ficoide is a rare kind of salad with thick fleshy leaves prettily arranged round a delicious pulpy stem. I don't know where you buy the stuff. At Chez moi I have ordinary lettuce and romaine lettuce, and also rocket which I toss into gravy because I've got an idea rocket is a meat-like plant: I'm keen to reconcile it with its animal tendencies. It's a waste because most people leave it on the side of the plate, shriveled and pathetic as if it were a failed garnish. Still, I press on with my attempted trans-categorization: I feel it's what the various foodstuffs expect of me, what I'm supposed to give to the world. Rocket with meat. Avocados with fruit. White wine with cheese. I realign friendships, cheat at Happy Families.

I take out salad ingredients, vegetables, herbs and several knives: peeler, smooth-bladed and serrated. I cut half a cucumber into cubes, then move onto the mushrooms which I slice into little slithers, I go back to the cucumber, cutting wafer-thin slices, skip to topping and tailing green beans, pop whole beetroots into the oven, I scoop the flesh out of avocados and grapefruits, and put the chard into boiling water. The whole idea is not to get bored. The theory, because I have a theory about peeling things, is to leave room for random opportunities. With cooking, as with everything else, we tend to curb our instincts. Speed and chaos allow for a slight loss of control. Cutting vegetables into different shapes and sizes encourages combinations which might not have been thought of otherwise. In a salad of mushrooms, cucumber and lamb's lettuce, the chervil needs to stay whole, in sprigs, to make a contrast because the other ingredients are so fine, almost transparent, and slippery. If its thin stems and tiny branches didn't contradict the general sense of languor- accentuated by the single cream instead of olive oil in the dressing- the whole thing would descend into melancholy.

Have a salad at every meal. Once you adopt this habit, lunch or dinner without a raw vegetable seems incomplete. If you tire of lettuce, there are lots of leaves: watercress, radicchio, endive, escarole, dandelion, purslane. Try salads of shaved fennel and orange slices or lightly cooked vegetables, as in celeriac remoulade. At the farm, we have a plate of sliced tomatoes at every summer meal.