Review: Frisee Salad

Close your eyes. Today is your birthday. You’re at your favorite restaurant, compliments of your lover. You’re on the patio. The air is light and temperate, carrying the gentle notes of woodwinds – is that an ocarina flautist off in the distance? You can’t be sure. You just ordered the biggest steak (or Portobello cap) on the menu, dusted with coffee grounds and black pepper and angel dust or some shit. You cannot wait. You seem to recall the waitress saying something about accompaniments of some kind but you didn’t pay much attention. Who cares, right? Surely a fine establishment like this will pair such a prestigious entrée with appropriately dope side-pieces.

Everyone there is beautiful – the patrons, the staff, everyone. They’re all enjoying themselves and speaking at a respectful pitch, talking about all the things you like. Listen for a few seconds or don’t. Up to you – everything is perfect for your special day. You feel the presence of your waitress returning over your left shoulder. Her name is ‘Lisette’ or something awesome like that. Her delicate waft of honeysuckle precedes her. She stops short of your peripheral vision. You hear a gentle but pronounced gurgle. Then again, slightly louder.

“BWRAAAAAAMMMPUTPUTPUTPUT!” The weedwhacker turns over and you turn to see Lisette trimming some overgrowth near the fencing. She shuts the machine down, dusts off the weeds on her skirt and places them on a plate in front of you. “Enjoy!” she says, earnestly.

Yeah, it’s pretty much like that when someone serves you a frisee salad with your meal. Who actually enjoys this stuff? First of all. Firstly. Firstly, who are y’all trying to fool with that ridiculous name? You know what “frisee” sounds like? It sounds like a marketing team got together to figure out “what’s the fanciest sounding name we could make up to sell this bullshit to fancy people?” I have done zero research on where that name comes from but am 85% sure my assumption is correct.

Be for real: what is your first reaction when you see a plate of frisee salad? If your answer wasn’t “are you kidding me with this shit?” you played yourself. It looks like they cut off part of the centerpiece and put some olive oil on it. It looks like if a tree had pubic hair. It looks like when the lawn starts to grow up the sides of a bando. It looks like when you start chewing up a normal salad and realize there are peanuts in it and have to spit it out because you’re allergic to peanuts. It looks like the restaurant ran out of salad and your waitress, Lisette, weedwhacked some shrubs and served them to you.

Hold up. Hold up! HOLD UP! Hand to God, I am not making this part up. I couldn’t help myself and decided to Google “frisee” and the first article I read contains the following sentence: “restaurant owners are always on the lookout for ways to describe familiar ingredients to make them sound more exotic, because doing so means they can charge more.” *throws hands in the air* Is that not what I just said to y’all!? I couldn’t spell vindication on the first try just now but I know what the fuck it is. This is an article trying to explain why frisee salad is good and in doing so couldn’t help but explain why frisee salad is bullshit. Don’t believe me? Ok here: https://www.thespruce.com/what-is-frisee-995686

Yeah, I’m going in. I’m a little too excited about frisee salad. I acknowledge that. That’s my journey. But I haven’t, not one goddamn time, to this point, mentioned the taste of frisee salad.

Yes, I’m going to! This shit is terrible, am I right!? It’s not just that it’s bitter. I can handle bitter; broccoli rabe – love that shit – grapefruit too; I can even get down with arugula to an extent. Frisee salad tastes like if you sprinkled lemon juice into a garbage can on Bourbon Street in the Summer time. Hyperbole aside, it tastes exactly like you’d expect some random weed you found on your hike would taste. Literally. Go into the woods, get a firm grip onto something with roots, pull that shit from the earth and get to chewing. You’ve just made a frisee salad, my nigga. Can you believe Lisette had the nerve to serve this to you on your birthday? She seemed so nice.

Now open your eyes and order something else (assuming you were in a restaurant about to order when I asked you to fantasize about being in a restaurant).

Verdict: 0 out of 10

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