The Great Wedge Salad Conspiracy

The wedge salad may be the greatest culinary con in America.

A chef cuts a head of iceberg lettuce into four pieces, throws some blue cheese and bacon on top, and charges me $20.

You didn’t make a salad.

You quartered lettuce.

Then comes the indignity of eating it. The minute I put a knife into that architectural monstrosity, the wedge launches halfway across the table like the oyster in Pretty Woman. Now I’m Julia Roberts, except nobody gave me Richard Gere or the jewelry box.

Chop my lettuce, toss my salad, and make an effort.

The wedge has had a very good run. The con is over.

The 12 year old boy in me wants to giggle at “toss my salad.” 

But I am not a 12 year old boy – I am an erudite Bougie Bitch.