The Caesar Salad Is Class In A Bowl

The Caesar Salad Is Class In A Bowl

I’m a massive mountain man. I like to eat. I like to eat things that only the manliest men eat. We are talking four main food groups: meat, cheese, potatoes, and bread. If my meal doesn’t involve those food groups, then I don’t want it. Salad? It’s for the birds. I don’t eat vegetables, I just eat the animals that eat the vegetables. I’ll eat the occasional house salad when I have to, but recently I had an experience that changed my entire outlook on the salad game. Have y’all ever had a Caesar salad?

It’s got cheese. It’s got bread. It’s got a good sauce. The combination of cheese, croutons, and dressing makes the lettuce bearable. I am all in on the Caesar salad. Let’s not forget that the Caesar salad is the most American salad in existence. It was created by an Italian immigrant who got swamped during a Fourth of July rush at his restaurant. Short on kitchen supplies, this dude just ad-libbed a salad from what he had, tossed it around table-side, and changed history forever.

The core of the salad is romaine lettuce, parmesan cheese, croutons, and a dressing consisting of garlic, salt, pepper, lemon juice, and Worcestershire sauce. Some psychos put anchovies on their Caesar, but if I’m going to branch out I just stick to a grilled chicken topper.

I would like to invite you to come join the winning team, I’m talking about team Caesar. How lame is a house salad? You’ll get some lettuce that’s usually not even quality whereas with the Caesar you’re only getting the finest chopped romaine. The house salad then has some ice cold half-peeled cucumbers, a couple cherry tomatoes, some red onions, some egg, maybe some shredded carrots and some cheese and croutons. Sad! Then you top it all off with some fattening ranch dressing or maybe some French or raspberry vinaigrette if you think you’re fancy. Well you’re not, because if you want to live like a king, you have to eat the salad named after a king (kind of). Caesar is obviously better than some peasant living in a house. Poors! Your house salad has probably been sitting in a bowl in the fridge back in the kitchen for 6 hours while my Caesar salad is being prepared and tossed for me right beside my table while I sip on my Old-Fashioned and watch in awe. I won’t talk too much trash on the chef salad, because that’s a fairly manly salad. I simply want to create a dialogue between the two salad choices that typically accompany a fat and juicy ribeye and a loaded baked potato.

In fact, do not even associate with me if you are team house salad. From now on I will only associate with real winners who eat real winning Caesar salads. If you don’t order your steak medium-rare and your salad Caesar, then you are simply not in my social class. I will not acknowledge nor talk to you. Instead, I will laugh down at you and use you for a foot rest while I consume my barely-cooked perfectly marbled slab of beef paired with my cheesy and crispy salad. I eat Caesar salads and I am better than you.

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Just a big dude from Virginia who loves Dale Earnhardt, guns, and eating red meat.

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