Here’s my deep dark secret. When I’m eating alone, salad becomes a finger food. I only use a fork and knife to devour salad when I’m in the company of others, or out in public. As is well known, the Breakfast Czar and I are not admirers of salad dressing. So, when I am alone and eating a salad with my fingers, rest assured there is no dressing on it. My dream salad is a dry salad. Not dry like an arid desert, but dry as in not covered with oily residue. Kind of like a sea lion that has escaped unscathed from an oil spill in some faroff Alaskan bay.
Why am I bringing this up? Because today I carried out a salad for lunch. It was a fine salad, but I had this incredible urge to eat it with my fingers. I didn’t. I resisted that urge, as I was at work and anyone could have witnessed my bad manners. But, I had that urge nonetheless.
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