Some people look at lettuce and curl their lips, remarking disparagingly that it’s “rabbit food.” Other people think, “Well, rabbits must have good taste,” and keep on munching.
You will have no problem guessing which camp I am in.
Saying “lettuce” is like saying “apple” – you get a general idea of what’s meant, but really there’s so much variation within the category. A red delicious is not a granny smith is not an api etoile, just as iceberg is not romaine is not green tango. Lettuce can be basically categorized into four main botanical types: crisphead, butterhead, leaf/looseleaf, and romaine/cos. (As a related note, I think my children may fall into the butterhead category.)
Most of the names give a pretty good description of the varieties within. Crisphead lettuce forms a bunch, or a head, as it grows, and offers that satisfying, watery crunch like iceberg does. Butterhead is so called not because it is fatty or rich, but because of its soft, tender texture. Leaf lettuce does not form heads or hearts — which sounds much worse if you say it’s headless and heartless – but as you might guess, stays in loose leaves. The romaine name doesn’t tell you much about the vegetable’s tall, sturdy green leaves, but it does remind you that it became known to much of the world via Rome.
Ancient Rome and surrounding areas were, in fact, home to lettuce in general. There is even a lettuce hieroglyph in an Egyptian tomb dated to 4500 BC! I don’t know what they were saying about lettuce, but it wasn’t a rabbit doing the writing, so lettuce is clearly not just rabbit food.
Lettuce is also not just salad like we Americans typically think of it. I could absolutely eat a salad every day, so that’s a very high calling already, yet lettuce can also be masterful layered into a sandwich or shredded onto a taco. It enjoyed a suspicious season of limelight in the bygone days of serving any and everything on a garnish bed of lettuce leaves (thank you, Betty Crocker and unmolded gelatin “salads”), but it is even more than all that – for while the idea almost doesn’t compute in our brains, lettuce doesn’t even have to be served raw.
“Though it is the most recognizable category of greens, it is all too often used the least creatively,” asserts “The Book of Greens: A Cook’s Compendium” as it is spread out in front of me. The several recipes to follow prove the author’s point: Lettuce Jam (assorted lettuces fried and chopped with pickles and capers to create a purportedly versatile dip), Chartreuse Lettuce Sauce (blanched lettuce heads turned into a rich sauce for tuna), and Butter Lettuce Panna Cotta (“dessert is probably the best way to eat your greens” – which is why the next page has a recipe for Lettuce and Carrot Cake). There are two salads among the remaining recipes, but this lady is speaking my creativity-in-the-kitchen language. Let us try all the lettuce!
This is theoretically the season for being creative with lettuces, because they are at both their peak of spring-fresh flavor and their production. I’ve had three neighbors in a two-mile radius offer me garden lettuce because they are done with it, and I’m delighted to sacrificially help consume the bounty.
It’s been so good, however, that I haven’t felt like doing anything much with the lettuce besides salad. Like I said, I could eat a salad every day, and I’ll throw anything into a bowl of lettuce; when you hit on the right mix, wow. Salty, sweet, creamy, nutty, acidic, roasty, vibrant, all the things made cohesive when added to lettuce. My best this week was curly-leaf lettuce with roasted sweet peppers, pickled beets, homemade feta, salted avocado, and poppyseed dressing. I want more now.
But get the right lettuce, and it doesn’t even need anything else. I know to offer plain lettuce to my niece, since the two of us could stand there and eat the whole bag as a refreshing snack. To my surprise, Brian even commented on how good the lettuce leaves were at lunch earlier this week. “The perfect everything; they’re soft, yet they crunch.”
The rabbits couldn’t have said it any better.
Caesar Salad Lettuce Wraps
This is a good in-between recipe for lettuce: not just a salad, but also not cake. I was in the middle of making a 5-gallon bucket of pudding (that’s another story) and needed a low-prep lunch: voila. Brian wrapped his lettuce wrap in a tortilla, which is another great way to serve this.
Prep tips: it doesn’t matter if the tuna is oil- or water-packed; make a double batch if you want leftovers.
• 1 (12-oz) can tuna, drained
• 2 ounces Parmesan, shredded
• ½ cup mayo
• 1 tablespoon dijon
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• dashes of onion powder, garlic powder, and black pepper
• minced fresh parsley
• Caesar dressing
• large fresh curly lettuce leaves, homegrown if possible
Mix tuna, half of the cheese, mayo, seasonings, and parsley together, adding salt if necessary. Spoon into lettuce leaves, topping with a sprinkle of cheese and a drizzle of dressing.
Amanda Miller lives with her husband, two young children, and whoever else God brings them through foster care on the family dairy farm in Hutchinson. She enjoys doing some catering, teaching cooking classes, and freelancing, but mostly chasing after her kids. Reach her at hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.
