On Tuesday, December 16, 2025, a bunch of us gathered for a birthday celebration. Several members of the party (pun!) partook of Caesars of various sizes and styles.
This was an opportunity for me to spread the good salad-blog word to some new folks. Keen on the idea, my table-fellows eagerly inquired after each other’s experience. This mutual interviewing produced many a juicy pull-quote.
Below, a taste of our polyphony.
The Return of the Warning Sign
~ second in a row~
DANGER ACID
hide your shame ‘neath the nachos! hide it!!
He asked me what I thought of the salad.
“Sour shoe” — by which I meant very acidic. Indeed, the fare was one-note. With nary a bacon to be found.
Around the table, discourse was being had regarding the postulate that Caesar dressing is not in fact ranch. To one, this was a revelation. Another commented, “Blue cheese ranch is delicious.”
I could zone out of the conversation and zone into the sensory onslaught within my person.
“This almost tastes like ranch,” ruled the new initiate.
I desperately wanted bread. (A sad lack of croutons.) I kept looking up at the middle of the table in hopes of something else to munch.
My mouth tastes like pizza but I haven’t had pizza, I found myself thinking. Pizza with bad parmesan? (Which doesn’t say much for the cheese.)
I glanced to my right, raised a curious eyebrow. “Odd,” judged my neighbour.
There is a hotness in my mouth. Is this death?
There is a phenomenon occurring in my mouth.
Turning now to my left: “You will have to report to me on the chicken.”
He shook his head silently, paused.
“Sour shoe.”
Mackenzie Bleho 