Wedge Salad
S2 E16: Regrets Only
Modern Family, 2009.
As we all know, sometimes the Great Mysteries of Marriage are so deep that even the newly commissioned NASA rovers cannot probe their uncharted caverns.
(Yes, I’m certain NASA is on standby to throw billions of dollars at marital strife research.) Enter Phil Dunphy—modern dad, suburban everyman, and champion of misplaced optimism—who has no earthly clue why his beloved Claire has exiled herself to the living-room couch. Turns out the key to unlocking his spousal predicament might lie somewhere between a piece of broccoli, a glorious salad, and a comedic raccoon alibi. Such intrigue! And we have writer Abraham Higginbotham to thank for these stewed-vegetable revelations. Higginbotham—who once wielded his comedic pen for the likes of Will & Grace—now blesses us with this domestic puzzle, reminding us that sometimes a simple meal can lead to spiritual (and marital) pandemonium.
In true Modern Family style, we’re treated to a swirl of comedic missteps. At first, Phil, the ever-upbeat father figure personified by the superbly rubber-faced Ty Burrell, attempts to fix things the only way he knows how: by guessing, backpedaling, and maybe offering a little hair-care compromise. Not wanting to enter the Mall of Infinite Terror with Claire, he claims a pressing hair appointment. (Yes, the man who once attempted to sell us on the wonders of real estate can’t even summon the courage to face a department store with his wife in tow. We call that comedic self-preservation, dear reader.) The stage is set for a gloriously awkward day: Claire is forced to endure bonding time with Jay at the mall; Phil is left in the capable—and let’s face it, disturbingly enthusiastic—haircutting hands of Gloria.
It’s only when Phil enlists Gloria’s help as an amateur marriage counselor, hairstylist, and secret-keeper that we understand the core of the conflict: Claire’s meltdown apparently involves the difference between cauliflower and broccoli, the indignity of an overlooked salad, and the accidental unleashing of a fire extinguisher upon her person. And oh, let’s not forget the best piece of cover-up fan fiction: blaming a scrappy raccoon for a destroyed microwave door. Here’s to the writing team who dared to craft such a sequence, and to the show’s famed director Michael Spiller, known for his comedic direction on Scrubs, Sex and the City, and numerous Modern Family episodes. Spiller masterfully leads us from one comedic beat to the next—uncovering that yes, Claire’s meltdown was about far more than either vegetable or rodent.
Once the shopping excursion commences—Jay inwardly cringing at every one of Claire’s relaxed spa noises—Phil’s guilt begins to metastasize. If only he’d listened better, we muse, or if only he’d recognized the miracle of a well-loved salad sooner. But the tension continues to simmer until, at dinner, Phil casually mentions said Legendary Salad of Times Past (truly, one of the greatest comedic phrases that never officially graced the script) and inadvertently prompts Claire to erupt. In the end, Phil does what every husband worth his salt eventually attempts: he creates a photographic walk down memory lane, breaks out a sentimental monologue, and prays that nostalgia can triumph over any vegetable-based scandal. In the final moments, with photo albums splayed on the bed and the unstoppable force of Claire’s frustration finally tamed, we witness that hallmark of the Dunphy marriage—absolute chaotic devotion, neatly wrapped up with a comedic bow.