Marion And Me

I never met Marion Cunningham and, so far, I haven't read any of her books, not even the Fannie Farmer Cookbook or the Breakfast Book, both of which I understand are classics. The closest I ever got to her was to visit her city of Walnut Creek. The only connection I can come up with is that my mother nearly named me Marion in honor of her mother.


Now, I will never have the chance to meet her or see her speak, because she has gone to culinary heaven to meet up with her old buddy James Beard. 


Still, I feel sisterhood with Marion Cunningham because she didn't turn her nose up at iceberg lettuce, and neither do I. When I was a child, iceberg lettuce was what you thought of when you heard the word "salad." This is the lettuce that, along with grapes, launched the United Farm Workers. Every restaurant worth its salt had a wedge of iceberg lettuce with Roquefort dressing on the menu. My Dad and I loved it; my mother rolled her eyes whenever we ordered it.


I still love it. There is something so perfect about crisp iceberg lettuce in a bologna sandwich that it's a once-a-year treat for me - gotta have it!  And I still love a big wedge of pale green crunch with a creamy dressing, like this one that I had last week in honor of Marion. 


I used the Green Goddess dressing that I wrote about before but I did make some changes this time. Rather than Greek yogurt, I just used plain, low fat yogurt for a little more sourness and doubled the amount of lemon juice. The result had just the right balance of creamy and tangy flavors, with the garlic pronounced but not shouting. 


So, Marion, I hardly knew ye, but I wish ye well. Thanks for a lifetime of advocating that people cook together and sit down together to eat. That simple idea is one we are losing, to our detriment. And thanks for endorsing iceberg lettuce.