Well-made mojitos are dangerous. On Sunday, Nate and I had lunch with my family at Chelsea's Kitchen. Nate ordered a mojito, and my dad and I followed suit due to peer pressure. By the time the server had returned to take our order (5-10 minutes), I had consumed the entire drink. She suggested another, and I agreed. It was hot out and the mojito was cool and refreshing. I could not refuse. After we finished our lunches, I suggested that we order a sundae (which also looked cool, if not refreshing). My suggestion was laughed off of the table and I was accused of having mojito-eyes. Oh, the shame.
I realize that small, fancy, bitter greens are hip. The more esoteric the leaves, the better. However, I do not like these salads. I eat them, and appreciate that other people enjoy them, that they are most likely better for you than baby romaine, etc. But I do not really enjoy them. The only bitter substance I truly enjoy is Campari. Secret exposed.
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