I know I’m running out of produce so it’s probably foolhardy to go lumping whole categories together again, but radicchio (the red menace), endive (the french disease), escarole (the Dutch holding company responsible for Big Brother and Toddlers & Tiaras), and arugula (the bowel rocket) are collectively the worst thing to happen to saladkind. When I was a kid, salads were simple: iceberg lettuce, cucumber slices, cherry tomatoes and maybe some shredded carrots on top. Nothing to write home about, but then again, I was home, so why the fuck would I be writing there? The point is, it wasn’t particularly tasty, but at least it wasn’t hurting anybody. At least when we took a bit of it, it didn’t fucking bite us back.
It’s like you four are in a sadistic contest to see which of you can induce the worst feelings of bitterness and pain in every mouthful. Radicchio, with your radish-infused aftertaste and tendency to wrap yourself around the uvula. Endive, the unhealthy urine-colored scoopy things that keep anything else from reaching a fork. Escarole, which is basically endive but without the froufy French pronunciation and with a sneaky resemblance to tasty Romaine just to fuck with you. And arugula, which can’t even be bothered to look friendly, with spiky leaves that let us know in advance will burn our tongues on impact before we even try.
Look, I get that the human tongue has a special place for tasting bitter things. And I get that a sophisticated palate shouldn’t require everything to be sweet. But you know what? The human body also has nerve endings which can feel pain — does that mean a sophisticated adult shouldn’t want to have orgasms all the time, but should instead broaden our scope with the occasional flagellation with hot coals? Is that what you think of us?
You just said yes, didn’t you? You leafy motherfuckers. Fuck all of you in the eye.
1/10. Nuff said.
image via wikipedia