Salads: Chop’d

chop’d
2 Horner Square
E1 6EW
Tel: 0207 247 8757

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, June 22

The Victim: Me

The Damage: £6

The Background: God I love chop’d. I used to work by the one in Leadenhall Market and I would e-mail my order in most days. At the time, I had fewer–how shall we say–rounded edges–and I give chop’d a lot of credit for that. Firstly, there was the salad. Secondly, there was the walk to and from Leadenhall.

These days, I am ashamed to admit that I don’t venure much farther than the Pret dowstairs from my office. So I had to sign up for a 10k to get my ass in gear.

The Entrance: I walk right in and pick up a chicken and strawberry salad. The sign suggests their balsamic vinegar as a good match for this particular salad, so I pick that up too. It all probably comes in enough plastic to destroy the ozone layer, which is the disappointing bit. (Maybe it’s recycleable. They don’t sell any Coke or Diet Coke, and people who don’t sell Diet Coke are recyling sorts, right? I don’t know.)

Later On: I race my salad home from Spitalfields, convinced of two things:

1. I’ve left the windows open at home with the burglar alarm on so the whole time I’ve been out, the alarm has been going off incessantly.
2. The rats that have recently infested my building (uggh…I don’t even want to thnk about it) have broken through the walls of my flat to get at the bag of trash/rubbish I’ve left lying in the kitchen.

Luckily, neither of these things have occurred. It was just me and my very nice salad. Hanging out.

The Verdict: I love chop’d. And I don’t care what you say, I’m tagging this as American.

P.S. I totally forgot that yesterday–June 26th–was my blog’s fourth birthday. Happy Birthday, little blogling. My, how you’ve grown! (You’ve also, I’m happy to say, eradicated "yummy" from your vocabulary. Thanks for that.)