Let’s be honest. The only reason for the existence of salad is as an excuse to eat salad dressing. Think about it. Have you ever eaten a bowl of lettuce and radish slices without some creamy, cheesy, oily, tangy substance slathered all over it? On purpose? Of course not, why would you? The thought has probably never even crossed your mind. But admit it, on a late night snack run to the fridge you’ve stood there in the soft glow of that single bulb, in only your bathrobe and slippers, taken a quick glance around and considered sucking some Hidden Valley Ranch straight from the bottle. Its OK to admit it.
How else can you explain man’s constant urge to find new and exotic ways in which to use salad dressing? It is now common place to find Blue Cheese alongside buffalo wings, or Italian dressing to be used as a chicken marinade. And that secret sauce on your burger? C’mon, we all know that’s Thousand Island. Don’t even get me started on Ranch. If it can be dipped, it will be dipped into Ranch dressing. French frys, onion rings, carrot sticks, Snicker bars, and chicken in all its unnatrual forms; nuggest, fingers, and tenders.
We all know its true, but why do we hide from it? Why does my wife look at me cockeyed when I scrape my fork across my empty dinner plate, trying to collect the last tiny puddles of dressing? Would she rather I lick the plate clean or waste those last precious droplets? And by the way, salad dressing ain’t exactly cheap and in THIS ECONOMY you need to get the most for your dollar.
(Quick aside, my new pet peeve is when people end every negative thought with “in this economy.” Things like, “Wow, its so hard to find a place to park downtown, in this economy.” Man, that really bugs me.)
This is not to say that salad dressing cannot be abused. I have a friend who has put Blue Cheese on a toasted bagel and Creamy Caesar on a burrito. That’s just wrong.
Whether you’re a Ken’s Steakhouse man, a Wish-Bone enthusiast, or just like regular old Kraft, don’t be ashamed. We can all put on airs when we go to the fancy restaruants, (“Oh, just a little spritz of olive oil for me, or maybe a light vinigerette if you have it.”) but deep down we know if we were true to ourselves we’d say, “Hold the lettuce and bring me a bowl of croutons drenched in Honey Mustard!”