Ack! What Did I (Please, Lord. Almost) Eat?

When I realized what was on my plate it was all I could do not to run to the bathroom and throw-up my lunch. I wanted to slap my tongue and sanitize my mouth, or visa versa, or both. Gross is NOT a big enough word. Allow me to explain…

One of the joys of having a home garden is that fresh produce is a matter of steps from the kitchen. What has been available at this stage of our Minnesota garden is loose-leaf lettuce, and it is delicious. Tender, flavorful, organic. When it’s time for a salad I grab a colander and a scissors and snip, snip, snip my way to a nice bunch of greens. I bring the goods inside, wash them, rinse them, and dry them. Wonderful, uh? So what got my undies in a bunch?

My husband has been gathering the lettuce for his lunches at work. He’s ridiculously health-minded, except maybe for when he’s dirty minded, and always packs along a multi-veggie salad with a bit of protein. I noticed that he had cut extra lettuce and left it in a zip-lock bag in the refrigerator.

“Yum,” I thought. “I’ll make myself some lettuce wraps for lunch.” With a chopped hunk of chicken breast and some Gouda cheese I placed pieces of both within a lettuce leaf or three, rolled it all up, and ate. Yum, indeed.

I was reading something or other as I was eating and didn’t pay too much attention when I heard a soft “plop” on my plate. Assuming a wayward piece of chicken had escaped the wrap, I glanced casually down to retrieve it. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, OH MY GOSH! In place of a chunk of chicken, a slimy, bloated, slug inched its way across my plate. It seemed nonplussed. I freaked.

Scraping the rest of my lunch into the garbage, I told myself repeatedly that that was the one and only slug in the lettuce. I could not have, would not have, eaten any others. Then I squelched the dry heaves that wanted to occur.

When I told my husband what happened, he sorta shrugged indifferently. “Yeah, I picked one of those suckers out of my salad today too.”

WHAT?

I made him promise to do a much, much, much, much, better job of washing the lettuce in the future. He said he would. But I’m not sure it matters. I won’t be casually eating lettuce anytime soon.

Living without escargot? The best part of my day. ACKKKKK!