I’m glad you clicked on this article—I hoped an insane-sounding title would get your attention. Anyway, I like to swing my lettuce around as if it owes me money and is late on its payments for the second month in a row. I lay the lettuce out in a wide dish cloth and grab the ends to form a bag, and then I swing it so hard that the water goes flying, spraying the kitchen (and possibly my dog and family) with drops of leafy wetness.

Why, you ask? Well first off, that’s a rude question. A man is entitled to swing lettuce in his own home. But if you really want to know, it’s because swinging my lettuce in a kitchen towel is a great way to quickly dry it off while I prep a salad.

Who cares about dry lettuce?

Anyone who has studied the art of proper salads will know: you want your leafy greens to be dry before applying all the fixings. The main reason for this is that if your lettuce is wet, the dressing won’t stick to it very well. Instead of enjoying a creamy, acidic, herby or zesty bite of greens, you’ll just get a soggy mouthful of wet lettuce and leave a pool of dressing at the bottom of your bowl. For that reason alone, you should always thoroughly dry your lettuce.

I’ve seen too many good salads suffer because they were assembled lazily. Let’s put this to rest and make salads as delicious as they deserve to be.

I, too, would like to swing lettuce. Will you teach me?

Of course I will! This technique is the perfect blend of goofy mirth and solid culinary principle. No one can argue with results.

Step One: Finely chop up your leafy greens and thoroughly wash them. Some people are tempted to skip the washing step, especially with head lettuce like iceberg lettuce. However, you don’t know what pesticides have been used for your lettuce, and in fact, leafy greens are notorious for having stray bits of dirt, rocks, and fertilizer stuck within the leaves. This is especially true for romaine lettuce. So chop and wash that stuff.

Step Two: Lay out a large kitchen towel and pour the leafy greens on it. A big towel is ideal. You don’t want to grab a small kitchen rag, which will almost certainly end with you catapulting lettuce across the kitchen and into the housecat.

Step Three: Pull the corners together to form a bag, then hold on tight. There’s an important concept here to remember. You want a loose bag, but with a tight grip. You’re not trying to compress all the lettuce together into a wad. This will just crush your leafy greens. So again, wrap the towel loosely, but make sure there are no gaps for your greens to escape, then hold on tight.

Step Four: Swing, baby, swing. This is pretty straightforward, but here are a few tips to keep you and the kitchen safe:

1. Make sure you’re not standing next to anything you don’t want to punch. This includes countertops, doorknobs, windows, toddlers, solar salesmen, and the kitchen table.
2. Aim your swing at something that you don’t mind getting a little wet. Angle yourself away from that fridge with its macaroni art and wedding invitations, and aim for something more productive like the empty kitchen floor or your husband who was supposed to help with the dishes.
3. Swing until you no longer hear splatters. But note: you can ignore this bit of advice. Feel free to keep swinging until the voices in your head tell you to stop.

Just to make sure you’re with me on this precise and very delicate technique, here are three pictures of me putting it to use.

Wow, what a tasty salad we enjoyed that night.

Why don’t you just use a salad spinner?

Because I don’t own a salad spinner, and I’m too cheap and lazy to buy one. They take up precious kitchen space, and if I can get the job done just as easily by treating my lettuce like it’s a feral squirrel I’m trying to soothe to sleep, then I’m perfectly happy not buying a salad spinner.

If you need any more persuasion, here’s a short poem I wrote about the matter:

In the kitchen's gentle hush,
I cradle lettuce in fabric blush.
Tenderly swinging a leafy waltz,
A foodie's dance, where joy exalts.

With each swing and rhythmic spin,
This ballet dries, a dance that wins.
Not just a ritual of salad’s grace,
But a joyous twirl, a smile on my face.

Gone the clatter of the spinner's song,
No mechanical whirl, just a dance so strong.
A mindful partner in this verdant trance,
I dance with lettuce: leafy romance.