So two days into our trip, and we’ve had plenty of po’boys, french fries, fried oysters, fried shrimp, fried sugar-doused beignets and all that other crazy (fried) food.
Naturally, now I’m craving a salad. At every meal. It happens every time. We go to some place known for its decadent, over-the top food, and my body rebels. In Vegas with the buffets. In Hawaii with the luau spread of spit-roasted meats. Nuh-uh, my body says. It’s like: “Sona, you’re killing me with this crap. Now get me some vegetables.” For lunch on our first day here, we had chili dogs and sausages. No vegetables of any kind. Thursday night, for dinner, we went to this iconic oyster bar at our hotel called Desire. The first time we’d been there, we started with an order of fried catfish, doused with a bit of lemon and served up with a ranch-influenced dipping sauce.
Navdeep had blackened sea bass topped with a creamy crab sauce, with sweet potato fries. And I ordered a po’boy called the peacemaker, although maybe it should have been called the pacemaker, given the ingredients — fried oysters and shrimp on a big ole white bread roll. No tomato. No lettuce. No vegetables of any kind. Unless you count a mountain of french fries. Which I don’t.
The next day, we got a roast beef panini and soup. Again, no vegetables of any kind. By last night, when we revisited Desire (thanks to our trusty LivingSocial.com fundage), my body threw a tantrum. “Give me a salad,” it demanded. Of course, I topped that off with some (amazing cornmeal-crusted) calamari and a decent burger (which I took approximately four bites of), but the salad was, essentially, my main course. It was fresh leafy greens, cherry tomatoes, red onion, cucumbers, a touch of balsamic. Nothing you couldn’t make at home, you’re all thinking. But it was just what I needed.
So what’s for lunch you ask? Maybe some more of that awesome calamari. But with it? A leafy green salad for sure.