A simple salad story
By Sherry Larson
People’s Defender
Everywhere I look, I am reminded of a polarized world. Everyone is offended by someone or something.
What seems like a lifetime ago, I performed sensitivity training. A type of guidance that encourages empathy towards others, especially those unlike us. About 40 years ago, I took a group of junior high students to a leadership camp and heard a gentleman tell the “Salad Story.” Through the years, I’ve used creative liberties in telling, writing and directing the story as a play. Today, the story comes to mind as I try to make space for those who think, look, and believe differently than I do. Here is today’s rendition of a simple story about combining all our different flavors and turning them into something beautiful.
Once, a hostess was preparing a special meal for a group of friends. She was particularly proud of the salad she made with fresh produce from her garden and ingredients from a nearby international market.
She started with a crisp head of lettuce, adding a juicy beefsteak tomato, a gorgeous and elongated cucumber, a slightly spicy red cayenne pepper, savory purple onion, black olives, sweet and mild pepperoncini, red radishes, slivers of almonds, and crunchy croutons. Walking away from her culinary creation, the hostess was confident the salad would be a great starter to the meal.
After completing other meal preparations, the hostess returned to grab the salad bowl and place it in the center of her lovely and inviting table – the perfect colorful centerpiece. But when she looked inside the sphere, all the ingredients had separated into schisms, each clinging to others of their likeness. Frazzled because her guests were arriving soon, the hostess asked the salad (because you can talk to produce in stories), “What on earth are you doing separating from one another?”
The lettuce was the first to speak, “Well, I’m the head of this salad and the majority. Quite frankly, I’m not feeling special enough mixed in with the other produce.” The tomato piggybacked, saying, “And the red onion has a peculiar and offensive smell – I don’t want to be by her.” To which the red onion replied, “You should talk – you are a mushy mess – you can’t be cut without gushing everywhere.” The radish pointed out that the cucumber had bumps on her skin, and the slender cucumber followed, hurling an insult at the cayenne pepper, and said, “You think you’re so hot!” “How dare you,” answered the pepper, “The olives and pepperoncini haven’t even been grown near our neck of the woods. How do we know they belong here?” Indignant, the pepperoncini fired back, “The croutons aren’t even produce -and don’t even come at me with they are made from wheat stuff.” To which the croutons looked at the almonds and said, “Well, you’re just nuts.”
Exasperated by her polarized produce, the hostess had to think quickly as her guests would soon arrive. How do I unite these ingredients? Certainly, there must be some common ground. She began mixing the oil, vinegar, and spices for the salad dressing. As she drizzled it on top of the harvested components of the salad, a transformation took place. They started to blend with overlapping textures and merging aromas, turning into the most colorful and fragrant deep dish.
“We are quite beautiful,” said the lettuce. The tomato, taking a deep breath in, looked at the onion and said, “Your scent is very different and wonderful all the same.” And with mutual respect, the onion relented that the tomato’s mushiness could be endearing. The cucumber admitted that the pepper was “hot” without feeling the slightest bit of jealousy. The radish complimented the cucumber on her texture. The pepperoncini welcomed the croutons and apologized for his bigotry. The pepper realized she had much in common with the pepperoncini and acknowledged that the olive’s meaty texture and woodsy scent were lovely. And the crouton admitted to the almond that his competitive crunch threatened him. The delicious salad came together as a harmonious first course for the pleasure of the hostess and her guests.
This story is a simple one about a salad, and you can toss it however you wish. But I have realized that until we recognize our “dressing” or commonality, we will never unite, appreciate, and respect our beautiful, colorful, gifted mixture of humanity and all the deliciousness we possess.