The story of the loney Thanksgiving Day Salad.
November 24th 2006 04:20
We had a salad every night with dinner when I was a kid. My mom always made a nice fresh salad. With lettuce, tomatoes, onions, green peppers, and carrots. No cheese, or croutons, or bacos, or ham. For a kid who hated veggies, (like me) this was the most detested part of dinner. My parents MADE us eat the salad. Also, they didn't get good salad dressings, like ranch. We got Italian dressing, and if we were lucky, french. Ever eat italian salad dressing with a canker sore or chapped lips? Take it from me, it burns like a mutha.
I did every trick in the book to get out of eating the salad. Pushed it around my plate, hid it under stuff, spitting it into a napkin. I don't know if my parents ever caught on, but man did I fucking hate the salad. Even now the thought of my moms salad when we were kids, makes me gag a little. When she cut up the onions, green peppers, and tomatoes, she cut them in these humongous chunks. So there was no way to get around getting the full flavor of each veggie. Ugh. I think I threw up a little in my mouth.
The two times of year you weren't forced to eat salad with the home cooked meal was Thanksgiving and Christmas. Yet, my mom made one every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even my dad, who ate the salad with gusto every night, avoided it like the plague.
Today, was Thanksgiving, and there it was. The lonely Thanksgiving salad among all the usual fatty goodies we eat on this day every year. Deviled eggs sprinkled with paprika, stuffing, two, yes TWO types of potatoes both smothered in butter, and one full of cream cheese, green bean casserole, fruit salad, greasy gravy, rolls, turkey, and then the salad. Everyone passed over the salad that my mothers made out of habit. It sat there, leaves a bright green, the cherry tomatoes a gay splash of red, the tongs poked in, sticking out at a jaunty angle. It screamed, "Eat me! I'm healthy! I taste great with Italian salad dressing!!"
Once again, the salad went uneaten. It will more than likely go into the my dads lunch where he will just dump it out tomorrow, because salad does not taste good with turkey left overs either.
Poor salad.
I did every trick in the book to get out of eating the salad. Pushed it around my plate, hid it under stuff, spitting it into a napkin. I don't know if my parents ever caught on, but man did I fucking hate the salad. Even now the thought of my moms salad when we were kids, makes me gag a little. When she cut up the onions, green peppers, and tomatoes, she cut them in these humongous chunks. So there was no way to get around getting the full flavor of each veggie. Ugh. I think I threw up a little in my mouth.
The two times of year you weren't forced to eat salad with the home cooked meal was Thanksgiving and Christmas. Yet, my mom made one every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even my dad, who ate the salad with gusto every night, avoided it like the plague.
Today, was Thanksgiving, and there it was. The lonely Thanksgiving salad among all the usual fatty goodies we eat on this day every year. Deviled eggs sprinkled with paprika, stuffing, two, yes TWO types of potatoes both smothered in butter, and one full of cream cheese, green bean casserole, fruit salad, greasy gravy, rolls, turkey, and then the salad. Everyone passed over the salad that my mothers made out of habit. It sat there, leaves a bright green, the cherry tomatoes a gay splash of red, the tongs poked in, sticking out at a jaunty angle. It screamed, "Eat me! I'm healthy! I taste great with Italian salad dressing!!"
Once again, the salad went uneaten. It will more than likely go into the my dads lunch where he will just dump it out tomorrow, because salad does not taste good with turkey left overs either.
Poor salad.
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Summer Banks
Romance Writers
Comment by Anonymous
Hope you had a happy Thanksgiving.
Brooke