My dearest,
Most people say you don’t taste like anything. Don’t listen to them. I love you, and that is really all that matters. You are a blank canvas and our cupboards and fridges hold the flavours that turn you into a masterpiece.
I grew up with you, and as far as I am concerned, you’re one of my earliest food memories. How could you not be? You were always on the table in Grandma’s wooden salad bowl with whatever delicious meal we were treated to at her apartment. Bathed in oil and vinegar, with salt and pepper. I named this salad after my grandma: Olga Salad.
Mmm. I can picture her apartment. The way the furniture was set up – she had the longest couch anyone has ever seen – the pictures on the walls, two dining tables because at any given moment she could have us all over for pasta supper. Not to mention, there was always room for a card game. And the smell. There was always, always something on the stove or in the oven at Grandma’s. And always a nice crisp iceberg lettuce salad.
Grandma paved the way for you, my crunchy, watery friend. You’re a vessel for sandwiches and burgers when I don’t feel like a bun. You always hit the buzzer beater when the time is running out and I realize I need another dish. You never judge – you allow anything and everything into the bowl with you: cheeses, veggies, nuts, dried fruits, fresh fruits, meats, grains, oils and vinegars of all types and flavours. You add a little something whether your leaves are left whole, shredded, torn or chopped up.
There was a heated debate in my Gals chat, iceberg, about lettuce. I believe the question posed was, “If you could only have one leafy green for the rest of your life, what would it be?” I fought tooth and nail (what does that even mean) for YOU. A lot were on board but most gals said spinach. I won’t lie, I appreciate spinach. (And it has, to no fault of your own, higher nutritional value.) But iceberg, nothing can beat you. Plain and simple. Maybe it’s nostalgia? Maybe I just love a good crunch or maybe it’s your versatility. A little of all of the above.
At the end of the day, iceberg, in the words of Ethan Kraft: You rock, don’t ever change.
