One of the juicy joys of summer, is crunching into a hearty, healthy salad. Unless, you’re me. I like vegetables, but only under certain conditions. Unfortunately, I’m one of those people who believe that vegetables were primarily created for salad dressing. I’ve always felt that way. As a child I’d only eat my veggies, if they were covered with creamy dressing. The only exception to my rigid rule for raw roughage, are tomatoes. During August, which is the only time in the Pacific Northwest that they abundantly grow – I’m in tomato heaven. I can practically eat them for every meal. A fresh tomato just picked from the vine, sends my savory senses spinning. To even think of putting dressing on those luscious red orbs, is tantamount to tomato treason. I know, I know – you didactic, die-hard dykes are saying, “But technically, a tomato is a fruit since it has seeds.” Yet some of the greatest chefs in the world still consider tomatoes vegetables, and I side with them. But you might, however, change my mind temporarily; especially, if you’re a hot butch who’s slowly sliding the dripping “fruit,” into my eagerly awaiting open lips. And then I’ll want seconds.
Although I love salad dressing, I’m very particular about what I like. I’ll admit that I’m somewhat of a salad snob, when it comes to drenching my veggies with dressing. I have a collection of dressings in my frig, that are comparable to having the right shoe for every occasion. I have everything from a casual, Newman’s Own Vinaigrette: (Flip flops, Keds or Crocs), to a dressier, Marie’s Chunky Blue Cheese Dressing: (Cole Haans, Kate Spades or Salvatore Ferragamos). If I were Imelda Marcos, I’d be in big trouble; since my condiments compartment can contain only ten bottles, not two hundred – plus.
I know that salads aren’t ordinarily considered sexy; but I had one memorable date that changed my attitude. She cooked an incredible meal for me, and saved the salad for last (she was European). Talk about food foreplay! She hand feed me the entire salad: each leaf of lettuce, each piece of carrot, and each cherry tomato. She gazed into my eyes the entire time, and by the time that she was finished, I was more than ready for dessert.
I’m working on eating vegetables without dressing, but it’s like having sex without an orgasm – it can be satisfying, but also incomplete. Maybe I’ll just “lighten up” on my desire for decadent, delicious dressings. I could even learn how to make my own, if I got ambitious. And if I had the right woman, wrapping her arms around my waist as I measured and mixed the ingredients – I might even consider becoming a vegetarian. Don’t get me started about cukes.







