I love a good salad. When we were growing up, my mom always made a side salad at dinner…usually just romaine or red lettuce, tomato wedges, maybe onions (which my siblings and I hid in our napkins), and vinaigrette. But always a salad. She tossed it in a big bowl with two wooden spoons.

Right after high school graduation, my best friend and I went on our first ever girls’ trip to Southern California. One of our goals was to have lunch at the famous Hollywood Brown Derby restaurant, birthplace of the Cobb salad (and, more importantly, where Lucy and Ethel stalked William Holden).

As Linda and I sat alone in the restaurant (it was mid-afternoon) looking at the caricatures of famous movie stars on the walls, our delightfully attentive waiter, accompanied by a sous chef, wheeled a cart to our table. The waiter tilted my salad toward me with pride. He waved his hand dramatically across the display of chopped eggs, bacon, chicken, cheese, and assorted vegetables. It was, indeed, a work of art.

Then he handed the platter to the chef, who dumped the whole thing in an oversized wooden bowl. Grabbing a long-handled fork and spoon, he proceeded to toss the chunks into the air, proclaiming, “Nobody tosses the salad anymore. You must always toss the salad!” He tossed that Cobb for a very long time before spooning it back onto the plate and placing it in front of me. I dutifully ate every equally dressed bite, and it was delicious. (It was also the most expensive thing I’d ever ordered in my short experience of adult dining situations—but worth every penny!)

This memory has stayed with me. I often proclaim, “You must always toss the salad!” as I prepare dinner at home. I don’t consider a salad fully tossed until there are bits of lettuce clinging to the backsplash or my hair.

The beauty of a Cobb salad is in the random chunks of deliciousness as well as the fact that everything is cut into bite-sized pieces. It’s the original “chopped” salad. In fact, that Brown Derby salad is the salad by which I have judged all others.

Over the years, I’ve been subjected to all kinds of salad heresy and I’m afraid it’s made me cantankerous. I’m sure my friends are thinking, “Cantankerous? Not Jeannie. She’s a delight.” Those are the ones who’ve never dined with me when I’ve ordered a big entrée salad and have to finish preparing it myself before I can eat. I’m not a sous chef! Bring me a finished meal!

Here are a few things that tick me off about today’s salads:

• Cucumber rounds. They make great compresses for your eyes but they are not edible until chopped (and peeled, if I can be frank).
• Hand-sized pieces of lettuce, giant broccoli florets, five-inch pepper strips. If I have to cut it into bite-sized pieces, the kitchen isn’t doing its job.
• Everything shoved into a tiny soup bowl. It might look pretty but I’m going to need some space to mix it up, especially if the dressing is on the side.
• And don’t get me started on wedge salads. Sure, charge $15 for a big slice of iceberg lettuce that you’ve put no real effort into. Ridiculous!

I doubt I’ll ever see another restaurant salad treated with the reverence I witnessed at the Brown Derby. When we have people to dinner, my husband always asks me to make my “famous” salad. Honestly, it’s just a tossed salad, but people rave about it. Between my mom and those fancy guys at the Brown Derby, I guess I learned my lesson well. You must always toss the salad!