Sample · Step 1 · 8 min
Salad Is a Myth
Leaves are a garnish. A meal has a center.
Next year, could you sign up for napkins?
Where is the food, Nonna Pell asked, and she held out her hand for my fork. I had come early for a cooking lesson and was eating lunch on the stoop of her building with the bowl open on my knees, and she had come down the stairs with a bag of trash. I told her the food was under the chicken. I handed over the fork, because nobody I know has ever refused her a utensil.
She went through the bowl the way you go through a coat pocket for your keys. Under the chicken she found romaine. Under the romaine was kale, and under the kale were the cucumbers, which had been sitting in dressing since half past ten and had gone see-through. She named each layer out loud as she got to it. When the fork hit plastic she gave it back and picked up her trash. She said she was putting water on. She did not ask whether I wanted pasta, and by the time I finished the cucumbers I could hear a pot filling in her kitchen upstairs.
