My mother used to feed me “dark green lettuce” as salad, and I loved it, even when I was a kid. There was something about its crisp texture and slightly bitter taste that made it my favorite part of any meal. It wasn’t like the usual iceberg lettuce, which I always thought was bland and watery. No, this dark green lettuce was full of flavor, and every time my mom served it, I felt like I was getting a special treat. I didn’t know what kind it was, but I didn’t care—I just loved it.
Fast forward a few years, and I think I was about 17 when I had a friend over for dinner. I was in the middle of helping my mom with the meal when I saw the bowl of salad on the table, filled with that familiar dark green lettuce. My mouth watered at the thought of having a second helping. As I reached for it, I asked my mom for “more dark green lettuce.” I wasn’t thinking anything of it—after all, I’d been eating it for years without a second thought.
But my friend, who was sitting at the table and watching me, suddenly gave me a strange look. I paused, mid-reach, and she said, “Uh, you mean spinach?” Her tone was filled with confusion, and I stopped, feeling a little embarrassed. I had no idea what she was talking about. To me, it was always just dark green lettuce. I looked at the bowl again, trying to make sense of it. Spinach? It never crossed my mind that what I’d been eating for so many years could have been spinach instead of lettuce.
As the realization hit, I couldn’t help but laugh. I had spent so much of my life eating what I thought was lettuce, but it was spinach all along. I asked my mom about it later, and she confirmed it—she had always used spinach in our salads, thinking I wouldn’t like regular lettuce. I guess I’d never questioned it because I loved it so much. It was a small moment of revelation, but it made me realize how easily we can grow attached to something without fully understanding it.