When I was younger, we used to go to a restaurant in Los Angeles, the long-gone Scandia. It was one of those places where they would wheel up the salad cart, and toss a big bowl of salad right at your table. Since some members of my family went there a lot, they made a special salad for us, which had lots of finely chopped vegetables in it, as well as little cubes of avocado.
It was always fun for a kid from the sticks of New England to sit in that restaurant, installed in a high-backed booth, watching the celebrities and the hoi-polloi mingle and eat nearby. But as much as I loved the salad, and straining my neck every time someone walked in the door, I couldn’t stand those slippery little green bits in there and would eat around them as politely as I could. Needless to say, nowadays, I can put all those avocados that I missed out on years later, on the same list with all those New England lobster platters that featured twin lobsters for $8.99 that I didn’t order when I was growing up.