I'll begin with my thesis statement: Some salads are meant to be tossed.
Now that I've said it, we can reflect on the double entendre, giggle once, and move on like the mature adults we are.
I have a suggestion that I think will improve your dining experience. When you order a salad, let the chefs do whatever they want with the dressing. If they want to put it on the salad, let them. If they want to put it on the side, let them. If they want to drizzle it artfully all over the plate like a Jackson Pollock painting, LET THEM. Just tell your server the name of the salad, then shut your yap before you ask them to change anything about it.
I really must ask: Why is there an obsession with deconstructing salads? People ask restaurant staff to modify them more than any other item on the menu. On multiple occasions every evening, guests will order one of our gorgeous, fresh, delicate salads and proceed to destroy it with omissions. "I'll have the dressing on the side" is certainly the most common request. But it doesn't stop there. One time a customer ordered a caesar salad with no cheese, no croutons, and the dressing on the side. So I delivered them a bowl of lettuce and a ramekin of dressing on the side, and watched with a frown as they sucked all joy out of eating. Thirteen dollars for a bowl of lettuce, y'all. If you order in this manner, may I suggest that to save yourself a couple of bucks you buy a head of romaine for $1.50 at the grocery store and gnaw on it in the cold gray mausoleum you surely must call home?
Looks like a nice place to enjoy a dry salad.
Now, if you think I'm being hard on my guests because they have dietary restrictions that limit what they can eat, I'll cede that in some cases that's true. But most times, hacking a salad and its components apart is more often than not a diet restriction. And in almost all of the instances I can recall, it's a crime perpetrated by women. Ladies want the dressing on the side because they feel it's the most fattening thing they can get rid of. They fear a bowl of salad leaves swimming in a sea of creamy dressing that will just pack on the pounds.
And as a woman, I say, RISE UP! LOVE YOUR BODY! CUT THIS SHIT OUT! WE DESERVE IT ALL!
We've come so far. WE TOO DESERVE TO ENJOY SALADS.
Yes, I'm being dramatic. But SISTERS, PLEASE. The chefs at nicer places aren't drowning your salads in dressing. You're not cutting a huge amount of calories by getting it on the side, and you're not avoiding something disgusting by asking us to omit an unusual ingredient. But you are denying yourself the sensory experience of crisp lettuce leaves evenly glazed in their perfectly balanced counterpoint with the pop of unexpected flavors.
In short, you are compromising the chef's vision. And chefs of a certain caliber are no less artists than musicians or sculptors, possessing the power to arrange flavors with the virtuosity of a renowned composer. Don't be the woman who asks a painter to quit using the color blue. Don't be the woman who tells the orchestra that she doesn't like violins. Don't tell a chef not to work with certain flavors.
Have faith.
They are in the business of preparing food that appeals to a majority of people. They have thought of YOU when they came up with the recipe. Please, think of THEM when you order. Give them a chance to impress you with what they've put together, and give yourself a break from tearing it apart. TOSS YOUR FEARS ASIDE.