Anatomy Of A Salad
There has always been salad at the table. At home in my parents’ house, it is prepared before dinner and eaten after, like a necessary bookend to a meal. The vinaigrette has never changed: it sits in a glass container in the right hand bottom corner of the kitchen fridge, colour blocked in olive and honey. Wholegrain mustard, white wine vinegar, lemon, honey and olive oil are my mother’s secret weapons. The salad components may change but largely remain in a similar wheelhouse: butter lettuce (but sometimes little gem), avocado (but sometimes soft ripe slices of pear), red onions (always, thanks to my dad’s alium-infused palette) and tomatoes. This is not how I construct a salad, although it is particularly delicious on a warm summer’s day when it’s too hot for anything else and there are gossamer folds of ham and craggy crusts of bread to dip into the juices left at the bottom of the bowl.
Construct is a cornered sort of word. I might have chosen create or craft or even curate. But to me a salad does require a certain level of construction. It must (another imperative word but only in the personal sense) be built brick by brick, on a foundation of flavours, textures and colours. I believe in specific tenets for specific salads, but reserve the right to break my own rules when necessary (this happens a lot).
First let’s discuss the meaning of the word salad. Take the first half of the word: sal. Salt. That flaky necessity that helps your mouth water itself. From the Latin ‘sal’, it evolved to ‘herba salata’ (salted herb) and later in the 14th century was abbreviated to ‘sallet’ and then eventually ‘salad’. Herbs gave way to the more neutral salad leaf, which does not typically feature in many of my salads but that’s for later.
To me this means two things: a salad requires both herbs and salt.
The first time I really thought about the beauty of a salad was in Northern California, sat in a wood-panelled grand old bar of a restaurant called Stock Farm. The pizzeria and mainstay of a one-horse town called Hopland (the first one you hit on the 101), it belonged to the family winery where I was working and living. Alongside wood fired pizzas and hearty main dishes, the salad menu was small but perfectly formed. A classic Caesar showered with soft curls of creamy white parmesan and best served with crispy polenta; a citrusy arugula beauty peppered with juicy segments of blood orange and balanced with salty goat’s cheese; and a deep red bitter leaf number with candied walnuts and sweet dates and soft blue cheese. This trifecta of salads represented the perfect balance of flavours and textures and colours. Most importantly they were created with the bountiful Californian produce that I seem to dream about.
So for me, the anatomy of salad comes down to something: leafy, crunchy, herby, soft, sweet and tangy. And it’s important to remember that something crunchy can also be a leaf; that something soft can be a fruit or a vegetable but it could also be a cheese or a bean. And you can (and should) have more than one element per salad. Intuition plays the strongest role in constructing a salad. This is not an exhaustive list. But I think it sets a good foundation.
Something leafy: rocket, kale, cavalo nero, radicchio, butter lettuce, frisée
Something crunchy: red cabbage, crispy rice, iceberg, croutons, toasted seeds, breadcrumbs/pangrattato, apple, cucumbers, nuts, fennel, raw romanesco, crispy guanciale/lardons
Something herby: dill, fennel fronds, mint, oregano, parsley, coriander, basil
Something soft: beans, ripe pears, ripe fresh tomatoes, confit/roasted tomatoes, blue cheese, roasted pumpkin/squash, boiled egg
Something sweet: dates, candied nuts, berries, oranges, ripe persimmons
Something tangy: feta, sharp cheddar, red onions, pickles, kimchi, ferments, marinated red peppers
I am equally, if not more passionate about salad dressings. If you’ve read my newsletter or been to my house for dinner, you’ll know I make two salad dressings that both involve miso: a lime miso vinaigrette and a maple miso vinaigrette. To me, the balance of flavours in both of these dressings is unmatched. I rarely make another dressing unless forced, although I do make exceptions for a classic Caesar and a slightly heavier tahini number.
The formula to my dressings requires something: salty, sweet, tart, fatty and spicy.
Something salty: miso paste, salt, anchovies
Something sweet: honey or maple syrup
Something tart: lime juice (never lemon - I just think it tastes too medicinal with honey), white wine/apple cider vinegar
Something fatty: olive oil, egg yolk, tahini
Something spicy: garlic, ginger, turmeric (I personally believe every salad dressing needs garlic though)
These dressings will be poured over the more heavy duty salads (see above) or if you’re serving with a pasta or a big main dish, I prefer to keep it simple and pour over a big bowl of rocket, little gem, frisée or butter lettuce with nothing else.
BONUS: your salad dressing can be your marinade. I’ve used both miso dressings as marinades for chicken and fish and it’s always been delicious.
Lime miso vinaigrette
Juice of one lime
2 grated garlic cloves
1 heaped tbsp honey
1 heaped tbsp white miso paste
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Pinch of salt
Maple miso vinaigrette
1 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tbsp maple syrup
2 grated garlic cloves
1 heaped tbsp white miso paste
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Pinch of salt
Maple tahini Caesar
1 tbsp tahini paste
Juice of half a lime
½ tbsp maple syrup
2-3 anchovy fillets chopped into a paste
2 garlic cloves grated
1 tbsp olive oil
Water to loosen
Add ingredients to a jar and shake vigourously. Always season to taste and learn what you like. I like my dressings to be salty and sweet so I usually will go a little more ham on the miso/anchovies and honey/maple syrup.
The salads I have on rotation…
Thinly sliced red cabbage (I use a mandolin), kale, crispy rice, cucumbers, aged cheddar, dates and a lime miso vinaigrette
Plums, Russian kale, squash, feta, red cabbage and a maple miso vinaigrette
Radicchio, blood orange, fennel, pickled red onions and a lime miso vinaigrette
Little gems (kept as whole individual leaves; not chopped up), green beans, lots of coriander and chives with a lime miso vinaigrette but I add toasted crushed pistachios as the crunch - this is an ode to my favourite salad at Kismet in Los Angeles – and either with some roast chicken or a bit of salmon
Crispy rice, kale, green beans, coriander, soy-marinated egg, crispy chilli oil
