From Greenleaf to Leafy Greens: Musings on Salads

I was forced to write my first Yelp review today. I didn't want to do it. I don't like to participate, but it had to be done. Why? Because salads were involved.

Let's back up for a second.

I wouldn't describe myself as a salad lover as much as I am a salad buff, or a salad philosopher. I have a lot of theories on salads, and all of them are correct. I know this because I have given salads a ton of thought. Or at least more thought than you have.

I didn't have a perfect attendance in high school, but I did have a perfect record of having a salad for lunch every day. A record that extends to my professional career, where some have even taken to calling me "Steak Salad" Handleman.

Listen, I can list my salad credits and accomplishments all day, but that's a waste of time. Either you're on board or not. So let's go.

The best 'salads only' restaurant in the world is GreenLeaf in Beverly Hills. They now have a couple more locations, but I'll never forget my first trip to Greenleaf when it first opened. I had so many hopes and dreams tied up in that place, and it did not disappoint me.

The owners of Greenleaf know their salads. More importantly, they know FREEDOM. Because when it comes to salads, I am pro-choice. Guess what? Not everyone wants cheese in their salad. And yet others insist on it! We must have the right to make decisions regarding our own salads.

Hence, we need to build our own salads.

But really, freedom in salad is nothing when not combined with one other thing. And that other thing is the number 1 most important rule of salad. Without it, a good portion of deliciousness is lost. It's this:

A salad is a thousand times more enjoyable if SOMEONE ELSE MAKES IT.

It doesn't take a Top Chef to understand and utilize the freedom component. But 99% of the time they have no grasp of the someone else making it thing.

It's simple. And it is true. There is something about making a salad yourself that kinda ruins it.  You know the parts too well. But when it appears before you, freshly tossed by someone else, it is a perfect, synchronous whole.

This is the genius of Greenleaf. They let you build your salad, and then they make it.

Of course, others do that. But Greenleaf is better at it. And their shit is fresh. These salad bars feel like they've been sitting out there for days. Not Greenleaf. I mean, check out this corn!

I would fucking sleep in that pan if it was socially acceptable and wouldn't ruin Greenleaf's perfect "A" rating.

Greenleaf also understands the importance of bowls. Yes, bowls. Bowls can make or break a salad. How the fuck is Souplantation gonna hand me a plate?! A plate! It's a salad. It needs a bowl. The words "salad" and "bowl" are connected for a reason. Behold, the Greenleaf bowl:

Isn't that glorious? Tossed by loving, Mexican hands, in a comfortable, well-sized bowl.

What was the point all of this? I forget. Oh yeah! That Yelp review. No, it wasn't for Greenleaf, it was for a different place.

Because I don't live in Beverly Hills. I live too far to go there every day as I would prefer. I live in a place with no Greenleaf. Even worse, I live in a place with zero salad centric restaurants.  Until now.

A new salad place just opened in Manhattan Beach called...Leafy Greens. Jesus Christ, if you flip flop those words, you practically get Greenleaf!

Needless to say, I was excited. I like green. I like leafy. What could go wrong? I hopped on my bike and rode my romaine loving ass down there today to check it out.

I walked in and found an assortment of salad toppings to choose from. And zero people working there.

Just so you know, there is an ARMY OF PEOPLE working at Greenleaf. Mixing, tossing, cutting corn, it's a flurry of activity and freshness. So the fact that no one was in his place was a very bad sign.

And sure enough, Leafy Greens turned out to be just a regular old stupid salad bar that you can find at any commissary anywhere in the world. Heck, there's a better salad bar at every Ralph's Supermarket I've ever been to.

Defeated, I built a salad. I wasn't gonna waste my bike ride. Oh, the indignity of building it myself. I got done and some teenage girl comes out and weighs it and charges me 12 bucks. I came home. Disgusted.

And I wrote my first Yelp, telling the owners, if they were reading, to go on a field trip. To Greenleaf. To study the art of salad. Until then, I am screwed. But with any luck, they'll read the review, and take the advice of ol' Steak Salad Handleman.