Why did I have to buy what I originally thought was plain ole mixed green salad, but turned out to be, upon closer inspection (at home and therefore five long sweaty minutes away from the combini), seaweed salad (with no less than three shades/species/types of seaweed, mind you).
Why, why, why?
And don’t give me that crap about cultural openness, nutritional values and all that stuff: I will gladly eat about anything (although a cold gun pressed against my temple might help) on most occasions. And that includes, caramelized wasp larvae, lapon reindeer sandwich or even that disgusting insult to generations of Italian cooks that is nori-corn-mayonnaise pizza… But right now, everything around me (including me) is hot and sweaty and all I wanted was to put my tooth on a nice crisp leaf of fresh iceberg lettuce (the mere name sends my taste buds in gustative overdrive, right this moment), not some kind of damp chewy pseudo-vegetable that looks like it’s been left behind by the tide.
If God had intended for us to eat raw seaweed at dinner, he would have made it sprout in my backyard while lettuce would be growing at the bottom of the oceans.
So, anyway, I guess with a bit of olive oil…