It was a sham, a farce, an act of willing self-delusion. Clearly, if I had any instinctive grasp of the process I would have realized right off the bat that I had no business continuing with an approach that was so obviously wrong. In retrospect, the real question is this: Is there a wrong way to spin lettuce and what constitutes optimum dryness?
I believe it is still an open question, one rife with potential conflict.
It appears that my first error was assuming that the pile of lettuce I dumped out of the spinner basket onto a neatly laid out paper towel passed the dryness test. Just how dry does the stuff have to be? I guess there is a fluff test I am not privy to. To me, dry enough is, well, dry enough.
Mother and daughter both scoffed at such a notion with equal disdain. It appears that at least two 25-revolution spin cycles are the minimum allowable. As any father knows, when mom and daughter join ranks to assess dad’s skills there is only one plausible loser, despite there being equally acceptable approaches to whatever task is under review.
The dryness factor aside, I was advised to raise the whole basket out of the sink and place it on top of the counter. That would make pulling the cord so many times much easier. I tried it and found after a few pulls that I preferred to have it below me. It just felt more comfortable, and more natural, to reach down and pull upward. Suffice it to say, I was left to my own devices on that score. I felt the disapproving looks in their eyes but ignored them – not easy, ever. The crux of this particular issue is that an approach that feels natural and unforced to me might be absolutely incomprehensible to someone else. We often refer rather cavalierly to something we label as common sense, but what makes sense to one person might strike another as patently misguided. What comes naturally to me easily might seem unnatural to someone else.