When I was a kid, my mother decided to grow some lettuce in the back yard. Now, I happen to like lettuce - especially iceberg: clean tasting, crunchy, the perfect accompaniment in virtually any sandwich or with any dinner item.
Not that horrible stuff that looks like roadside weeds or lays so flat on your plate you can't even fork it up. Iceberg is what real lettuce should be. On my more generous days, I admit Romaine comes close.
Anyway, you can imagine my youthful excitement that we would have our very own lettuce patch.
Alas, she didn't tell me it was going to be Boston lettuce. Flat. No good crunch. Might as well munch on grass.
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