I realize this proves that I have absolutely no palate…
Shameful as it is to confess in a world of gourmet food and connoisseurs of all the best taste has to offer: I really, really like iceberg lettuce.
I realize this is an extremely unpopular point of view. It makes me appear unsophisticated, unrefined, crude. It proves that I have absolutely no palate (well, just the sort of wines I prefer prove that, in any case.) But there you have it. I like iceberg lettuce. I prefer it to many other types of greens.
This isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy other forms of salad greens. I love spinach leaves, so deeply green and silky. Radicchio, bibb, butter, romaine – toss ‘em on in, although I draw the line at bitter endive. But my favorite salad will always be based on a bed of iceberg lettuce.
I grew up in the traditional Midwestern fashion of many decades past, eating iceberg lettuce in all my salads and on my sandwiches; actually not even knowing, until I was probably about age 13, that there were any other types of lettuce leaves. And unlike a lot of other foods served me as a child (I still shudder at the sight of a Brussels sprout), I enjoyed iceberg lettuce. I still do. To my tongue, iceberg lettuce is the perfect crisp. Unlike radicchio or romaine or (again, shudder) endive, it has no bitter aftertaste. It crunches. It tastes green.
Mix iceberg in with shreds of red cabbage, small red radish roses, slivers of carrot, a bit of thinly-sliced celery, perhaps even some water chestnuts, and the aforementioned emerald green of spinach leaves, and yes, a few other types of lettuce just for the variety they add, and that, to my taste buds, is a perfect salad. I happily toss in sun-dried tomatoes, olives green and black and kalamata, raw broccoli and cauliflower flowerets, crumbles of feta cheese and croutons, while the dressing can be almost anything: my favorite Greek or balsamic vinaigrette, Caesar or even the delicious bleu cheese which will, unfortunately, break me out in hives and result in a quick trip to the medicine cabinet for a dose of Benadryl… But all that matters less, though, than the welcome crunch and intense greeny-ness of my beloved iceberg lettuce.
Food sophisticates may well cringe and pronounce me to be a complete rube. It doesn’t matter. I will always prefer my childhood favorite: iceberg lettuce.