I know that I do a lot of salad shit tawking, but that is only when it is insultingly offered as a side to a burger. As if in my self-destructive eating mindset I want to be reminded of my downward spiraling food choices. Shut up and give me fries!

That being said, I do specifically seek out certain perfect salads in Greenpoint. Salads that discreetly champion the getting old and dripping with pork guts offerings that cater to our bacon crazed foodie culture.

Selamat Pagi’s Bali Urap AKA Papaya Salad is utterly perfect and I make the walk all the way to the “other side” of McGuinness just to eat this salad.

For $10 you get a piled high salad of green papaya, carrot, watermelon, radish, persian cucumber, turmeric and ginger dressed with cilantro, vietnamese mint and black sesame.

I usually get bored with eating salads, tired of chewing on greens like a cow, but this salad has so many different textures and flavors and I love way the turmeric leaves yellow stains on my lips and paws. I feel excellent after eating it, too.

Papaya is great for digestion as I know because we used to give my dog Mookie in chewable tablet form. Poor Mookie had cholitis his whole dog life after we found him on Roosevelt Ave in Jackson Heights eating cooked chicken bones, which are terrible for animals to eat because they splinter. Which reminds me of Andrew Chow, a little boy I remember chewing through fried chicken bones at public school lunch and sucking out the marrow. I only ate the fried breading and was utterly amazed and horrified by his determination.

Now that I grossed you out with my strange food memories, doesn’t a healthy Papaya Salad sound great right now?

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  1. With great trepidation, I’m attempting not, a reply but a clarification. Not ever being officially notified whether my status of persona non grata has changed, I feel sort of uncomfortable even clicking on comment. I want all to know that the person who has shit listed me is one whom I dearly love and whose diapers I used to change. I feel like King Lear.
    I do have many things to say about this salad but I must hold my tongue or my fingers lest I be severely rebuked. At times a feel like a daughter less father. But my daughter will never be a fatherless child at least until I buy the ranch.

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