A couple of years ago Mrs. Spocko and I were doing some fine dining in the lovely North Beach section of San Francisco. This was a white tablecloth, soft-lighting restaurant so we expected something a bit better than our local taqueria. We both ordered green salads. When they arrived I started trying to break the land speed record for fastest fork to mouth. Mrs. Spocko is much more dignified. She noticed that there were several slimy black pieces of lettuce clinging to the green pieces. I looked down to my half finished salad and noticed the same.

We called over the waiter, who felt the need to stand up for the salad’s wholesomeness. He said, and I quote, “It comes in a bag.”