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Thursday, September 22, 2005

Salad Days

All right, I'll keep this brief. (That was not a reference to underwear, Zimpter.)

I like salad bars. I like the choice, the variety, the creative zest I can indulge in building my own massive tower of greens and accompanying foodstuffs. However, (You knew that was coming, didn't you?), I suspect that many restauranteurs do not understand the purpose of, nay, the philosophical premise behind salad bars.

The restaurant I was at today, let's refer to it as mmm... say, Mazzio's, has, for the most part, a very nice salad bar. They have pepperonici, ham, cheese, great ranch dressing, red onion slices, wonderful fried Durkee-style onions, mushrooms, fresh bacon bits, and on occasion sliced green olives. It is a well-stocked salad bar.

I usually look forward to all the wonderful toppings and trappings of a first-rate salad bar experience when I arrive (with some pizza on the side), but one thing always spoils it. The managers of the company insist on mixing bits of purple cabbage and carrots with the lettuce.

I know the stupid reason they do it. Some chef or culinary "expert" (translation: git masquerading as a expert) or most likely "marketing expert" (translation: interfering jackass) has put it in the heads of the vast majority of restaurant owners that they need to add "color" to their salads, so they will seem more appetizing. The person who did so is the type of idiot who would automatically expect Crunch Berries to sell better than regular old Cap'n Crunch, just because there's a bit of blue and red mixed in with the yellow-orange crunch bits. This is the person who insists that every steak you order in America come with a drying and slightly discolored piece of parsley limply withering on the side of the plate.

Getting back to salad bars, they should know that there are a substantial number of us out here who despise carrots. Bugs Bunny is a funny cartoon character, but he eats the crappiest vegetable known to man. Even Mel Blanc, who voiced Bugs, was deathly allergic to carrots. The poor fellow had to spit them out after each take.

If people want carrots (or cabbage for that matter), they can put the carrots on themselves. What part of the salad bar concept do these mental cases not understand. Next they'll be splashing bits of ham in the salad and alienating all their Jewish and Muslim customers (not to mention PETA members, the loonies), or tossing in peppers and aggrevating all of their customers with weak constitutions, tastebuds, or pepper-phobias. ("EEeeeekkkk!!! Peppers!!!!!")

Stop putting carrots in the bleeding lettuce!!! Stop it, right now!!!

I'm done now. You can scroll down to the bit on Tyra Banks' bosom.


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