I Don’t Like Salad Much Sandwich Review

We’re undergoing one of my favorite rituals of the holiday season: clearing out the fridge before we leave for Christmas. I just cooked my boursin-bacon-shrimp-and-whatever-vegetables-are-in-the-fridge masterpiece (frozen peas are a crutch) as an example. And this morning my wife, who was late for work, stole the cream sauce leftovers and left a bunch of salad makings in the kitchen.

“Eat a salad today, would you? We’ve got a ton of spring mix left.”

Easy for her to say. She likes salads. I don’t hate em, but they leave me wanting something, probably carbs. So, instead of making a salad, I just put the salad between the last two remaining pieces of sourdough bread I had. Not only was it good, but it was beautiful, in its’ own way:

Beets. Hearts of Palm. Spring Mix. Balsamic Vinaigrette. Roast Chicken. Goat Cheddar.

Crunchy, soft, dry, wet, sweet, sour, dairy, acid, red, green, orange, brown, white.

And it all comes in a handheld.

That’s why I like sandwiches better.

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About enosarris

I write. About baseball, mostly, but also about the anthropology of sports, travel, cooking and sometimes music. But yeah, baseball mostly.
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