Drooling on the Pillow

Friday, June 10, 2005

Comfort Food 

When was the last time you were in a restaurant and you ordered an entree that came with a salad and you were brought a wedge of iceberg lettuce covered with french dressing? Maybe there would be a choice of dressings, but none of the choices would involve the word vinegarette or the use of fennel. No sorrel, no arugala, no fancy fungus. Just a wedge -- a quarter to a third of a head of iceberg and nothing else.

Is that a Pittsburgh thing or has that ever happened to you?

I got it up in Canada, once, while visiting Campobello, and we had a lot of fun with it, but I do remember it as standard fare when I was a kid.

And I liked it.

Food with no secrets, no trap doors, no obligation to evaluate, no playfulness, no whimsy, no expectation of comment, no complexity, no attitude. No first, second and third act. No big finish. You don't need to give it an attaboy. It doesn't care.

True, it's not very good. I think about once a decade would be plenty.

But there's just something so cheerful about it.
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