During the long summers of my childhood, lunches consisted of a seemly never ending Christmas ham, boiled new potatoes and lettuce salad. God I miss iceberg lettuce.
Back in the day, a kiwi salad consisted of broken up iceberg lettuce, with sliced hard boiled egg and tomato on top. The mayo was a kiwi mixture of Highlander condensed milk and vinegar.
Running into the house, covered in dirt and grass stains, you would pick and choose from the table before running out the door again; lunch, a brief intermission from a grand summer adventure.
But today we have matured as a nation; we have mescaline, and what a pathetic excuse for a salad it is.
It was like the salad "project brief" was to go out to the garden and find anything green that wouldn't kill you. The second, more immediate preference, seemed to be to find as many leafy items of different size and shape as possible - the more artistic the arrangement the better it seemed. It was a shame taste wasn't a part of the dynamic - the bitter aftertaste in my mouth speaking volumes today.
Upon walking away from my completed BLT at lunch this afternoon I noticed most people seemed to have followed suit; those "lovely" mounds of shapely leaves relegated to a mere garnish; something parsley had done well enough all those years ago, but with much less effort and wastage.
Grrr
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