Alison Roman Caesar Salad Novels & Stories

“I want the vegetarian salmon chef salad with no salmon or croutons. Cut a lime into circles that are exactly two centimeters thick and place it in a different bowl from the salad. Understood?” Cassie was by no means ready to work for the day but didn’t seem have a choice on the matter. She nodded and left to get Bethany’s lunch order.

It pinched my ego that he seemed to know what he was doing while I still held my ginseng in my hands, standing cluelessly and trying to recall if the video I’d watched earlier said to put it in first or after. “And just what are you making with all those fancy looking herbs you got there? Looks like food for a goat. Maybe you’ve got four stomachs like ruminant animal,” I sneered, trying to sound as condescending as possible. “It’s called a Caeser salad, stupid. And I also have some chicken for soup. But I’m pretty sure the Almighty Jared Smith doesn’t need any help in the kitchen. Don’t forget to stir that,” he nodded in the direction of my pot. I’d dropped the ginseng in to fry it a bit as

Pasta was safe. But maybe too boring? A stir-fry? Could I do a stir-fry that didn’t taste like soggy soy sauce? I settled on a compromise: a simple aglio e olio pasta, and a big, colorful salad with a lemon vinaigrette. It was hard to mess up. I typed garlic, lemons, fresh parsley, good olive oil, and a nice block of parmesan to the list. For the salad: mixed greens, cherry tomatoes, a cucumber, a red onion, and bread. Good, crusty bread to soak up the garlic oil.

and with that he disappeared. The Caprese salad with balsamic glaze looked like a vibrant painting on my plate. Sliced red tomatoes, ivory mozzarella, and green basil leaves created a colorful mosaic. Each tomato slice glistened with juiciness, and the fresh mozzarella promised a creamy texture. The basil leaves, a lively green, added a fragrant touch. A dark, glossy balsamic glaze drizzled artfully over the arrangement, tying the elements together. The colors played harmoniously, and the entire ensemble seemed like a celebration of freshness. It was a feast for the eyes, and I couldn't wait to savor the burst of flavors.

He gazes back at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Yes, you can.” Shaking my head since I should’ve expected that from an alpha, I point at a high stool on the other side of the kitchen island. “Sit. We can have the salad while I put the pasta on to boil.” Jackson sits. “And if I don’t like salad?” I pull the bowl of salad from the refrigerator I made earlier with pieces of chargrilled chicken, bacon, parmesan, and a lemon and garlic vinaigrette. “I didn’t ask you if you liked it.”

And while that's slowly cooking, he asks for a mixing bowl where he assembles the salad. He mixes mayo, lemon juice and its rind, plus the walnuts, which I'm still confused about. But even so, he places everything in the bowl, passing it to me to toss, which I do with a fork as he inspects the salmon. "I could eat this off your breasts and be the happiest man alive..." he tells me, and I almost choke on nothing. "Too much?" He chuckles, too. "You're very kinky." "The best way to be, Cassy."

At least, I hope I can say no. I grab Miss Justine’s order and notice they forgot the dressing. Rather than make the cook get it, I rummage through the prep area and find chilled sauce packets and extra croutons. I dress up the salad as my own by crushing the croutons over the Caesar dressing. That way, it’s not just a vast dry crunchy bite. With pride in my creation, I walk over. “Here’s your lunch, and of course, I’ll be back,” I say, flustered hearing my name called.

When everything had been set up, I decided to relax on the couch and design some jewelry. I was just about to start when Amy brought me a beautiful salad with spinach, romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers and mozzarella cheese. She covered it with oily Italian dressing and I was salivating at the smell. I smiled, “Thank you so much. That smells so good.” I immediately took a bite and I moaned, “It’s amazing. Thank you.” Amy laughed, “Leave it to you, Harley. You make a simple salad sound like a four-star gourmet meal.” I chuckled as I ate my salad and danced in my seat. She laughed, “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Leesa had opted for an Asian Chicken Salad, while Cali had chosen a BLT. Leesa poured her dressing over the top of the salad and dug in. It was delicious. The chicken was tender, the lettuce cool and fresh, and there were lots of mandarin orange slices, which she loved. “Mmmmm… this is good,” she said after a few forkfuls. “Mine, too,” Cali said between bites. “You can never go wrong with bacon.” Leesa smiled. “I was thinking the same thing about mandarin oranges.” “And therein lies the difference between us,” Cali joked.

I figured even if I produced a gourmet banquet, Mr High-and-Mighty would find something to criticise, especially given his monk-like adherence to healthy eating. With a sigh, I pulled out an assortment of organic greens, cherry tomatoes, and an avocado. Fine. He wanted healthy? He’d get healthy. But, as I assembled the very simple, very virtuous salad, I spotted a bottle of rich, creamy, and undoubtedly calorie-laden Caesar dressing tucked at the back. A slow, wicked smile spread across my face. Oh, yes. I drizzled a generous amount over the innocent greens, giving it a thorough toss. There. A salad with a secret sin.