In iceberg's defense.

So my sister (who saved Christmas, but that's another story) told me I needed to give iceberg another chance. Not the big floating mountains that sunk the Titanic, the lettuce. 

Lettuce, as far as I know, has never sunk a ship like icebergs and loose lips, yet instead of calling it loose lips lettuce we chose iceberg. I don't know who made this decision, but I imagine it was a person who enjoyed ironic nomenclature. Kind of like calling a fat guy Slim. 

"It's the only lettuce with crunch," she argued. 

"It has no nutritional value," I countered. 

Then I realized I was arguing nutritional value and suddenly found myself on the wrong side of the argument. 

I love crunch. 

In all of my healthy eating pursuits I have found very little crunch. What's with that?

Junk food OWNS crunch. Doritos. Cheetos. Hell, even rice cakes (with questionable nutritional value) have crunch. Why does it seem like every food that's good for us is soft as soup but every food that's going to kill us is delightfully crisp?

Don't get me wrong, bad-for-us-food also owns the soft food segment. I'm from south Louisiana, so along with the multicultural Americana food mix of chili, Stromboli (my phone felt the need to capitalize that), potatoes au gratin, hamburgers and cheesy fries, I'm surrounded by gumbo, boudin and countless other savory creations. 

But who owns the crunch?

In the healthy category, where's my crunch? I guess I could eat a pickle, but the sodium count gets precarious. (Pickle in a pouch is another story ... but don't buy one no matter how hungry you are in a gas station ... trust me. Nothing but kangaroos should come in a pouch.)

Lately I'm left dipping a celery stick in sun butter. But today, I had a salad with iceberg lettuce. And it was so crunchy. 

Thanks Abi.