Salad - why can't it be more filling?

I've just eaten some very tasty rocket and spinach, with a pleasant dressing, some tomatoes and parmesan. I think it's a design fault that the rocket or spinach leaf don't actually fill you up though. You munch your way through, enjoying the little explosions of flavour as they bounce off your palate, feel virtuous that you are not resorting to the pastry encrusted sausage roll or doughy bun, but the plate is empty, and so is your stomach. I've come to realise that the amount of leaves you need to constitute a hearty meal wouldn't actually fit on a normal sized plate. So, my latest invention is the salad trough. Forget dainty tableware and think volume and quantity.

Either that, or serve the salad with a chunk of dead animal that you can really sink your teeth into. Yes, it might have frolicked through the spring time fields of daffodils, or clucked across to the village pond in the late afternoon sunshine followed by appealing, Disney-eyed offspring, but all it really wanted to do, was to relax on your plate surrounded by lettuce.

Thank you, small furry or feathered creatures, for your generous sacrifice to hungry people everywhere.