The Mom Salad Phenomenon
on my newest scientific™ concept.
It’s International Women’s Month, so this week I want to acknowledge women reigning supreme in the home kitchen. And that means I’m writing about salad.
I grew up in a household where we ate relatively healthy food. We had a classic, rarely broken rule of not eating foods that ended in “os” - Fritos, Doritos, Cheetos, Oreos, etc. The exception was Cheerios. This isn’t to say that we didn’t eat our fair share of treats and baked goods. There was always ice cream in the freezer, and a never-ending stream of homemade, baked-from-scratch cookies, brownies, and pies made usually by my mom using tried and true family recipes. Let’s put it this way - I never felt like I was missing out.
Maybe the most reliable example of healthy food in our house growing up was having a salad with dinner every - and I mean every - night. It was a staple on the table and still is whenever I'm eating with my parents when I’m home. The fact that I haven’t regularly maintained this habit as an adult is probably one of my biggest food-related flaws (I'm hoping that it evens out with the spinach that goes into my morning smoothie).
Growing up, my mom made her standard salad nearly every night: spring mix, with variable options of cherry tomatoes, bell pepper, avocado, and cucumber. The dressing was maintained at the standard three parts extra virgin olive oil, one part balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper. Occasionally there was a variation with kale, spinach, some fruit mixed in, lemon juice, or a fancy vinegar. But typically it was the standard. And it was delicious. Every. Single. Time.
I’ve talked to others with similar experiences. What I think is fascinating is that a lot of moms have a practically patented way of salad-ing that revolves around some combination of a standard dressing, greens, and a rotation of accoutrements. This is, what I’d like to call very scientifically, The Mom Salad Phenomenon.1
In my summers pre-adulthood, we ate at our family friends’ house about once a week, and they did the same at ours. The host tended to be in charge of the salad. When our friends came over, the Britton salad was highly in demand on their side of the table. Similarly, when we ate at the Spillane’s, my brother and I would routinely and, hopefully discretely, fight over seconds of their leafy greens.
I remember the Spillane salad always tasting amazing, a bit sweeter than my mom’s, and different from what we were used to at home, but nevertheless consistently delicious each week. And just this past weekend, I was fortunate enough to taste another shining example of a Mom Salad at our friends’ sweatpants-themed Oscar viewing party.
The Mom Salad is unique to each person and is not easily achieved despite its simplicity. The key is consistency - more consistency than McDonald's could ever hope for in their Big Macs - even when salad-er is measuring the dressing by eye. Winemakers would sell an arm and a leg for similar dependability. Though I don’t make a salad every night, I do whip up a fair amount of salads. They are never as reliable as my mom’s.
In the right hands, even a simple bowl of greens becomes a testament to the best of womanhood. The Mom Salad Phenomenon is one of the finest expressions of an absolute mastery of a craft.
Thoughts on the Mom Salad Phenomenon? Please share. And feel free to brag in the comments about your salad skills. I mean, a man would.
I refer to it as this not because you must be a mom to make a Mom Salad - my dad often picks up the leafy baton at dinner - but because I find it most common among the demographic.
Love this!
Now I want a salad!