Me: I’m going to make BLTs this morning.
E: Ooh! That sounds great. Except I hate tomato.
Me: What?! But you eat them in salads?
E: I hate them on sandwiches. They’re slimy. Especially if they have the seeds in them. Bleach! It’s just weird.
Me: But you just ate fried green tomatoes on a sandwich. Why was that acceptable?
E: That was different.

E’s classification of tomatoes with his other banned vegetables–broccoli and spinach–meant making a classic BLT sandwich for him was impossible. The “T” is often the best part of the BLT. A perfectly ripe tomato, sliced up into thick slices sprinkled with a bit of salt to bring out the juicy flavor and placed against super crispy bacon and crusty bread–really, there’s few things better for breakfast than that.

But nooooooo, E is high maintenance. “If I ate like an ogre, this would be no fun for you.” Nope, it would just be, you know, EASIER.

I found a variation on the BLT without the infiltrating tomato while flipping through The Food Network magazine, which substituted peaches. That would be sure to satisfy E, I thought. But instead of arugula, I thought I’d change it up a bit and use frisee. A risk, I know, but I went with it.

I had these bright white peaches that worked splendidly with this organic Applewood bacon I picked up. After I fried up the bacon, I started assembly on the sandwich. And then, the peanut gallery chimed in.

“Just a little frisee on mine.”
“Why?” I asked, though I knew the answer. “Let me guess. You don’t like frisee.”
“Not particularly.”
“Dude. Why?”

E grabbed his computer and pulled up Wikipedia. “It was said best on ‘Kitchen Confidential,’ when frisee was described as eating someone’s afro.”

I restrained myself from throwing the whole the tub of frisee at his head. “Fine. You’ll get day old arugula.”

I threw on the arugula with disregard for presentation or gratitude, since E had none for my choice in greens. I stocked on slices of peaches and the crispy bacon last. I then cursed his name under my breath as I sliced his sandwich in half.

I then assembled a bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich for myself the way mothers, chefs and tomato farmers intended it to be done. Frisee included.

Tell boyfriend to kiss your lettuce as you bite down.

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