LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
Salad is all about opposites: Healthful or sinful. Simple or complex. Thrifty or luxurious. Spontaneous or studied. You love it or you hate it. But if you are American, in salad you trust.
The definition of salad has shifted, and its social meaning has steadily morphed throughout the nation’s history, but it has usually embodied the aspirations of each era. A bowl of raw, leafy things united by some sort of dressing has symbolized by turns health, wealth, virtue, privilege, glamour, necessity.
Megan Bomba, Sara Carnochan, and Kathleen Redmond, the young proprietors of Heart Beet Gardening in Los Angeles, have discovered that the upscale meaning of homegrown, organic heirloom greens is at odds with their dream of urban gardens.
“We’re all about easing hunger, increasing healthy eating, and making edible gardens available to everyone,” said Ms. Carnochan. When they started their business two years ago, they had been cruising Watts and Eagle Rock, figuring out the cost of turning rubble-ridden vacant lots into food-for-all and wondering how they’d ever afford the veggie oil–powered truck that could help rein in their greenhouse emissions. Then their cell phones began singing with requests for edible gardens in L.A.’s pricey neighborhoods. Contracts to build and maintain kitchen gardens in Santa Monica, Brentwood, Bel-Air, and Hollywood Hills promised to deliver the cash they needed to fund their sustainable organic-vegetables-for-all vision.
While many urban gardeners scrounge any possible patch for sustenance, Heart Beet’s clients’ directions to replace the front lawns with vegetables puzzled them. But the shifting of the location of a household’s “micro farm” was also exciting. “Just think of how much food could be grown if we replaced lawns with gardens,” says Ms. Redmond, “what a positive effect that could have on people’s lives. Not to mention decreasing the ecological imprint of our city.”
Mexican ambassador teaches daughter art of making salads, Wasington D.C., 1939.
As early as the Colonial era, salad signaled privilege. After all, only the wealthy owned the land it takes to cultivate vegetables, and only they could afford “exotic” olive oil to dress them. The image of a green leafy salad as a food of the well-fortuned few continued throughout the nineteenth century as chefs in restaurants favored by le tout monde served dainty creations of vegetables and greens as accompaniments to cold lobster, chicken, or crab in that most elegant of French sauces, mayonnaise.
In the early twentieth century, the mass production of mayonnaise, along with refrigerated railroad cars to ship greens to markets north of Florida and east of California, threatened salad’s exclusively seasonal nature. But even before then, health gurus like John Harvey Kellogg had begun to champion raw roughage. So even as it became increasingly accessible, salad was saved from seeming, well, common. But as salad consumption grew, maintaining regional distinctions became more and more challenging. Cookbooks created for and sponsored by salad dressing manufacturers inspired creativity in the home kitchen, resulting in a flurry of carved and stuffed tomatoes, avocados, and peppers. Gelatin companies followed suit and intricate congealed salads proliferated.
By the 1920s, caesar salad, Cobb salad, and green goddess dressing were created for Hollywood stars. Food writers fiercely debated the precise origins of the dishes; cooks closely guarded their recipes. But this patina began to fade midcentury. By the 1980s, when Ms. Bomba, Ms. Redmond, and Ms. Carnochan were born and began to toddle around the lush lawns of Westside Los Angeles, society was taking salad for granted. Even before fast-food establishments featured meal-size plastic tankards of lettuce, salad’s image was languishing. And it was going to take more than the sum total of health, creativity, and celebrity to coax mixed greens from their generic fog.
Once again, the distinction came from restaurants, specifically Chez Panisse in Berkeley, where the talent for creating extraordinary salads was matched only by Alice Waters’s insistence on knowing the origin, botanical category, culinary history, and growing conditions of each leaf.
In their school cafeteria, Ms. Bomba, Ms. Redmond, and Ms. Carnochan learned that “organic” is better than “conventional,” “local” is better than “from far away,” and “carbon footprint” is every bit as worrisome as “calories” and “carbs.” By the time they were fourteen, the three friends knew their arugula, radicchio, mâche, and mizuna. It was the dawning of the Age of Arugula, and these young idealists were at the forefront of a clean-eating, clear-eyed generation determined to change the world by living “green.”
Returning to Los Angeles after college, they saw themselves as liberationists and formed their gardening service as well as a compost co-op and a seed-saving program. “By building and maintaining vegetable gardens for our clients, we give households independence from the commercial food system,” said Ms. Bomba, who is now studying for her doctorate in food and environmental policy.
As their installations began to bear fruit, they felt it was the first step in making the world a better place. They tended each client’s ripening patch and left notes of advice and joyful birth announcements: “The rocket is ready! Pick it for salad tonight!”
“The heirloom tomatoes are perfect! Pick them for dinner!”
“The baby red leaf and romaine will go to seed! Use it quick!”
But returning two days later to water and weed, they were stunned to find rocket rusting, fat tomatoes rotting on the ground, and the baby lettuces bolted and bitter. When zucchini, summer squash, melons, sweet peppers, and eggplant began joining the lettuce and herbs in the compost pile, the proprietors of Heart Beet had their first lesson in the difference between “life” and “lifestyle.” One person’s dinner, they realized, is another person’s status symbol: heirloom organic vegetable patches as front lawn.
In a flash, the three idealists saw that they are part of a cultural ecosystem in which conspicuous cellulose was inevitable. They couldn’t change the social history of salad—or its destiny—but they could create a Community Supported Agricultural initiative for people who would eat their vegetables. All they had to do was give fair warning to those for whom eating is somewhat beside the point.
“The lemon cucumbers are ready! Pick them for dinner! If you aren’t able, we’ll come by and pick them for market tomorrow!”
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
Ms. Carnochan takes a one-size-fits-all approach to this creamy, fragrant dressing, which works for lettuces as well as chopped vegetables, pasta, rice, and other grains. “I tried a bunch of different stuff and came up with this. You can use yogurt if you are scared of the crème fraîche and heavy cream,” she says. Some of the earliest salad dressings in the American colonies were “creams,” which the Dutch used in slaw and the British used on lettuce, cucumbers, and tomatoes.
1 teaspoon minced fresh ginger
1 garlic clove
Fine sea salt
2 tablespoons heavy cream or milk
¼ cup crème fraîche or Greek-style yogurt
2 tablespoons rice vinegar or Champagne vinegar
Dash of hot sauce (preferably a green variety)
1 cup olive oil
½ cup cucumber, peeled, seeded, and diced
¼ cup minced fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves
¼ cup fresh basil leaves, torn into small pieces
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint leaves
¼ cup fresh lemon balm, chopped (or ¼ teaspoon grated lemon zest)
2 tablespoons minced fresh chives
1. Combine the garlic, ginger, ½ teaspoon salt, and 1 tablespoon of the cream in a blender and pulse to make a smooth paste. Add the crème fraîche and vinegar a little at a time, pureeing between each addition. Add the hot sauce and, with the blender still running, slowly drizzle in the olive oil. Add the cucumber and pulse a few times. If the cream is too thick for your liking, add more cream (or milk) to thin it.
2. Scrape into a bowl and stir in the parsley, basil, mint, lemon balm, and chives. Taste and adjust seasoning with additional salt and hot sauce, if desired.
MAKES 2 CUPS
NORTHAMPTON, MASSACHUSETTS
Growing up in a Minneapolis suburb, Kelly Rich always felt her taste was “inherently different.” She’d been adopted from Korea as an infant and came of age in the Midwest. Her mother was a flawless midcentury cook whose offerings were based not so much on her Swedish background as on Campbell’s soup. “Her casseroles had no recognizable vegetables,” says Ms. Rich. “I loved them; I just loved them in a different way from everybody else.” The first member of her family to live outside the Midwest, she moved to Amherst, Massachusetts, to attend college and was immediately smitten with the farmers’ markets and fresh produce. When she went home for a visit, she made her mother’s green goddess dressing and served it with heaps of tender fresh vegetables, barely blanched and chilled. The experiment was a success. After she returned to Massachusetts, her aunt called from Minneapolis for instructions in blanching.
½ cup mayonnaise
½ cup plain whole milk yogurt
3 anchovy fillets, minced (optional)
1 scallion, green and white parts, finely chopped
3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
3 tablespoons chopped fresh chives
2 tablespoons chopped fresh tarragon
1 teaspoon tarragon vinegar or white wine vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Place all the ingredients in a blender or a food processor and pulse until smooth. Adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a serving bowl, cover, and refrigerate about 30 minutes, until the flavors blend. Serve as a salad dressing or dip.
MAKES ABOUT 1½ CUPS
SAN RAFAEL, CALIFORNIA
Debby Morse doesn’t remember her first encounter with ranch dressing, but she never forgot her response. “I swooned,” she said. “Smack me with a lettuce leaf, those are the flavors I want in my mouth.” Her mother was a Navy wife and entertained a lot, and kept bottled salad dressing, but from the time Ms. Morse was on her own and “a young hippie cook,” she has made her own. Her herbs are fresh, her olive oil and vinegar local: Her salad dressings are beyond reproach. Ranch dressing is her sole exception. “I love the taste of ranch the same way people can crave Doritos,” she says, adding, “You have to use dried herbs so it tastes a little junky. Fresh herbs don’t cut it.”
½ cup buttermilk, plus more as needed
½ cup sour cream
½ cup plain whole milk yogurt
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon dried dill weed
¼ teaspoon garlic powder
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a medium bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, sour cream, yogurt, oregano, dill, and garlic powder until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. If necessary, add more buttermilk to adjust the consistency. Cover and refrigerate about 30 minutes, until the flavors blend. Serve with lettuce or vegetable salads.
MAKES ABOUT 1½ CUPS
EAST HONOLULU, HAWAII
When she was an executive with Starbucks, Debbie Christensen traveled the world collecting recipes, food memories—and a lot of cooking equipment. When she left the company and settled in East Honolulu, her kitchen was so small that every piece of equipment needed multiple purposes. This mind-set also affected her recipes. She uses this yogurt-fennel dressing on greens, on salads of local exotic fruit, on cauliflower, broccoli, or potatoes, and even on fish.
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
¼ cup chopped fennel fronds
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 cup plain Greek-style yogurt
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a food processor, process the parsley, fennel fronds, lemon juice, and oil together until a paste forms. Add the yogurt and process until smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a serving bowl, cover, and refrigerate about 30 minutes until the flavors blend.
MAKES ABOUT 1¾ CUPS
CENTRAL POINT, OREGON
When David Gremmel and Cary Bryant decided to open a wine shop, they began exploring artisanal cheeses to offer their customers. Along the way, they met Ignacio “Ig” Vella, the son of Thomas Vella, a premier American cheese maker, and fell in love with making blue cheese. When the master of mold decided to retire, he asked them to carry on. Within three years, the couple’s Rogue River Blue earned the title “Best Blue in the World” at the World Cheese Awards in London, England.
The cheese makers say they have tried a lot of blue cheese dressings in their lives, but have never had one better than this version made by their friend Erica Bishop. “She figured out how to bring out the pear and honey tones in the blue cheese while still preserving the cheese’s savory, almost cured bacon-like finish.”
1 cup mayonnaise
3 garlic cloves, minced
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
½ cup sour cream
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
2 ounces Oregon blue cheese, crumbled (about ½ cup)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a medium bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, garlic, parsley, sour cream, lemon juice, Worcestershire, vinegar, and blue cheese until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and refrigerate about 30 minutes, until the flavors blend.
MAKES ABOUT 1½ CUPS
OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA
Twenty-five years ago, when he was the chef of Chez Panisse in Berkeley, Paul Bertolli fell for aged balsamico. Hoping to produce the thick aged elixir at home, he traveled to Modena, Italy, to study with a master. He soon found that the time and care required to make extraordinary balsamic vinegar made it impossible for him to produce it commercially. That did not stop him from turning an old garage into an aging room, buying barrels and grapes, and forming a balsamico club with friends and neighbors. In the fall, they purchase grapes, mash them, boil down the juice to make a thick syrup, and then begin aging the vinegar in ever-smaller barrels. The highest quality aceto balsamico is closer to a condiment than a normal vinegar and needs no herbs or spices to make its flavor shine. He makes this simple vinaigrette at Oliveto, his restaurant in Oakland. It is delicious on peppery greens such as arugula, with a wonderful Parmesan cheese and good croutons.
1 medium shallot, finely chopped
2½ tablespoons aged balsamic vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2½ tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
In a large bowl, whisk together the shallot, vinegar, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Whisk in the oil until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
MAKES ABOUT ½ CUP
1 loaf crusty peasant bread, preferably day-old Pugliese-style, cut into 1½-inch-thick slices
1 large garlic clove, peeled and halved
About ½ cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more if necessary
Toast or grill the bread until it is dark brown and crisp. Lightly rub each piece with the garlic, brush with the oil, and serve.
MAKES 12 TO 16 SERVINGS
NOTE: The croutons can be broken into smaller pieces, if desired, to serve with salad.
PETALUMA, CALIFORNIA
In 1996, Nan McEvoy retired as chair of the board of the San Francisco Chronicle, the newspaper her grandfather had cofounded. She went looking for a house in the country, but she fell hard for a 550-acre former dairy farm and decided to plant 100 olive trees. Today she has 18,000 trees and produces award-winning organic olive oil; her annual harvest party is one of the hottest tickets around. The combination of olive and walnut oils in her vinaigrette creates a fruity flavor with a nutty finish that is delicious on peppery late-season greens as well as with endive, watercress, peppers, and shaved winter vegetables.
¼ cup sherry vinegar
2 teaspoons finely chopped shallot
½ teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
½ teaspoon Dijon mustard
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup walnut oil
Whisk together the vinegar, shallot, salt, mustard, and pepper in a small bowl. Keep whisking while slowly drizzling in first the olive oil and then the walnut oil. Whisk until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
MAKES ABOUT 1 CUP, OR 8 SERVINGS
BRIDGEPORT, CONNECTICUT
In 1977, Selma Miriam, Noel Furie, and Betsey Beaven opened a feminist vegetarian restaurant and bookstore, Bloodroot, in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and created a community. “Feminism is not a part-time attitude for us,” Ms. Miriam has written, “but how we live all day, every day.” The restaurant also serves seasonal foods and dishes created by people from all over the world. A chalkboard lists choices, and patrons order and receive their food from a counter that opens into the kitchen. Ms. Miriam compares the person staffing the counter to an orchestra conductor, who must give orders to the kitchen staff so they appear on time and together. Describing qualifications for the role, she said, “Bossy women are good at it.” Ms. Miriam is grateful for her “rich home life” and sees it as inseparable from her equally rich work life. “It’s all one thing,” she said. The restaurant staff and regular customers are her friends, with the latter often supplying services in trade for food. When asked what she sees herself doing in the future, Ms. Miriam says, “More of the same.”
This recipe has remained a constant. The collective serves it on a mixture of raw cabbage, shredded carrots, and daikon, and on sliced tofu. It is lovely on peppery greens and chopped vegetable salads, too.
1 cup grapeseed or vegetable oil
¼ cup toasted sesame oil
¼ cup tamari sauce
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
In a medium bowl, whisk all of the ingredients together until combined.
MAKES 1¾ CUPS
OJAI, CALIFORNIA
At home in Santa Monica, Chris Burrill makes documentary films. Whenever she visits friends and family in Ojai, the scent of rare varieties of lemons and limes have inspired her, and she has created a few recipes such as this mellow Meyer lemon vinaigrette. Because of its thin skin, dark pulp, and mild acidity, the Meyer lemon is presumed to be a cross between a lemon and an orange. It has a more complex flavor than most lemons, with hints of lime and mandarin orange. This dressing is delicious on salads, particularly those containing cold meat or fish, and is also tasty on steamed asparagus, poached leeks, and grilled summer vegetables. Covered and refrigerated, it will keep up to two weeks, but it is best to add the fresh tarragon just before serving. In its place Chris has also used chervil, basil, and parsley.
8 tablespoons of Meyer lemon juice (approximately 3 Meyer lemons)
½ teaspoon lime juice
1 teaspoon lemon juice
½ teaspoonsoy sauce
1 teaspoon grainy mustard
¼ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
Black pepper to taste
1 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped tarragon leaves
Put the lemon and lime juices, soy, mustard, and salt and pepper in a bowl and whisk to combine. Whisking constantly, add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream. Taste, and adjust seasoning with more salt or black pepper. Stir in the tarragon just before serving.
MAKES 2 CUPS
JOHN CHAPMAN, THE FOLK HERO KNOWN AS JOHNNY Appleseed, wandered west from Massachusetts in the beginning of the nineteenth century to plant tree nurseries throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, distributing seeds of a national treasure: the apple. From colonial days on, apples were valuable for eating, but their juice was even more valuable. By 1629, Virginia and Massachusetts had orchards, an apple tree was planted in New York City by the governor of the state, and soon orchards were thriving in the Mohawk and Hudson Valleys and north in the Niagara area. Colonists of every rank and age drank hard cider at any time of day. With much water unpotable, mothers gave the mildly alcoholic drink to their children. It was the drink of choice at church raisings; at Harvard and Yale colleges, students passed two-quart cider tankards down the common dining tables.
When hard cider was fermented a second time by naturally present bacteria, the result was cider vinegar, which cost three times as much and outranked the beverage for medicinal and health benefits. It was used during the Civil War to speed wound healing, and doctors who promote natural healing still recommend unpasteurized cider vinegar as a home remedy to soothe insect bites and sunburns; some believe it aids digestion and eases arthritis.
ROSLYN, SOUTH DAKOTA
Lawrence J. Diggs believes so deeply in the sour power of vinegar that he calls himself Vinegar Man. This energetic African American is the leading scholar on the subject and the president of Vinegar Connoisseurs International. He founded and curates the International Vinegar Museum. While he was a paramedic in San Francisco, the Peace Corps tapped him to help set up an emergency medical unit in Burkina Faso. He learned that many people were malnourished due to a nutrient-poor, unvaried diet. As he experimented with ingredients to make tasty, healthful sauces for rice and beans, he quickly understood the need for an acidic counterpoint. Usually, that meant vinegar.
If Vinegar Man were to recommend just one kitchen vinegar, it would be rice vinegar, a staple in Japan. He calls it a blank canvas for infusion. Tarragon, herbes de Provence, and dried garlic are among his favorite aromatics. He suggests putting vinegar in mason jars with plastic tops and controlling the infusions’ intensity by how long they steep.
Smoky oysters give this dressing a not-quite-identifiable salty, smoky hint. It is delicious on sturdy lettuces and chopped greens, on hearty salads like bean salad, or as a dip or sauce for vegetables. Mr. Diggs also uses it to dress hot or cold rice. Smoked salt or smoked black pepper can be used in this recipe, if desired.
One 3.75-ounce can fancy smoked oysters in oil
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a blender, process the oysters, their oil, and the vinegar until smooth and creamy. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
MAKES ABOUT ¾ CUP
MARYVILLE, TENNESSEE
Everyone in Maryville, Tennessee, recognizes Amy Campbell. She wears overalls and big sunglasses, and has an exuberant laugh and gracious Southern ways. A portrait painter, she taught design for many years at Maryville College and managed the Maryville Farm Market. She learned to make “kilt salad” from her grandmother, who used family-grown greens and served it as a light supper with cornbread. It is the Appalachian version of a warm salad, known in some places as “killed” salad, and in Eastern Kentucky and other regions as “wilted salad.”
8 slices bacon, cut into ½-inch pieces
2 pounds dark green, loose-leaf lettuce, turnip greens, young dandelion greens, young pokeweed, or early chickweed, cut into 1-inch pieces
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Vinegar, in a shaker-top bottle
1. Line a plate with paper towels. In a large Dutch oven, cook the bacon over medium-low heat for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until brown and crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to the plate.
2. Add the greens to the fat and toss until fully coated and bright green, 2 to 4 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. Transfer the greens to a serving platter, sprinkle with the bacon, and serve, passing the vinegar separately.
SERVES 4
ATHENS, GEORGIA
Fig preserves are a staple of Haley Watkins’s kitchen: her grandfather had a “sad little fig bush,” but her uncle’s produces copious fruit. She created this warm salad for Thanksgiving, but likes it as an evening meal when she’s home alone in the company of her cats and a good television show.
Ms. Watkins says, “This recipe is a great way to incorporate a salad or some greens into your Thanksgiving menu. The warm greens are homey and appealing, and the fig-balsamic dressing is autumnal and perfect with traditional Thanksgiving flavors. Fig preserves might be one of my favorite things in the world; they’re as sweet as candy, and they might be the best thing ever invented to spread on a biscuit. The chunks of fig in the preserves add texture, and with a splash of balsamic the dressing isn’t cloyingly sweet. The fried shallots add texture and a nice sweet-and-salty component.” (See the recipe for fig preserves, page 788.)
Vegetable oil, for frying
3 large shallots, thinly sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup fig preserves
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 teaspoons low-sodium soy sauce
8 cups lightly packed baby spinach
1. Line a plate with paper towels. In medium skillet, add enough oil to measure 1 inch deep. Heat over medium-high heat. Add the shallots and cook for 3 to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, adjusting the heat as needed so they do not burn. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the shallots to the plate. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
2. Pour off all but 3 tablespoons of the oil and return the skillet to low heat. Whisk in the fig preserves, vinegar, and soy sauce until combined. Stir the spinach, one handful at a time, and cook until it is slightly wilted. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a serving platter, sprinkle with the shallots, and serve.
SERVES 4
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
The American taste for salad is proportioned like a classic vinaigrette. Mix one part sensual appeal with three parts social and creative aspiration, add a liberal sprinkling of health concerns, and salad becomes an American institution. Even weighted with cheesy, creamy, gooey dressings, salad feels virtuous. Perhaps more than any other dish, salad represents the peculiar American attitude that dietary virtue is high class. Consider Caesar salad.
Mythology—and the occasional food historian—date the origin of Caesar salad to 1903, when an Italian cook in Chicago, Giacomo Junia, made a salad of cos (romaine) lettuce and named it after that great Roman, Julius Caesar. However, most historians credit Caesar Cardini, who kept a restaurant across the California border in Tijuana (to avoid Prohibition) that was the nightspot for starlets and tycoons.
More mythology lays the salad’s fame on the bony shoulders of Wallis Warfield Simpson, the divorced woman for whom King Edward VIII abdicated his throne. Allegedly, she became intimate with both the king, and the salad, in Tijuana, and then she popularized Caesar salad in Europe
There is much argument on the role of anchovies. Many say they are indispensable; Julia Child believed they had no place in the salad.
The Dutchess of Windsor
One of my early remembrances of restaurant life was going to Tijuana in 1925 or 1926 with my parents, who were wildly excited that they should finally lunch at Caesar’s restaurant. Of course they ordered the salad. Caesar himself rolled the big cart up to the table, tossed the romaine in a great wooden bowl, and I wish I could say I remembered his every move, but I don’t . . . I can see him break two eggs over that romaine and roll them in, the greens going all creamy as the eggs flowed over them . . . And garlic-flavored croutons, and grated Parmesan cheese? It was a sensation of a salad from coast to coast, and there were even rumblings of its success in Europe.
In the 1990s, Caesar Cardini’s daughter, Rose, insisted that her father never used anchovies, but she allowed that her uncle Alex, who was her father’s partner, may have used them in his version.
Since its invention, the salad has become more of a concept than a precise recipe. Topped with chicken, lobster, or shrimp, the salad has become a showcase of a chef’s creativity. This version, from chef Dave Jones of the Log Haven restaurant in Salt Lake City, Utah, is one of the greats. To reduce the risk of salmonella, use organic eggs or lightly coddle the yolks prior to using them.
1 cup kosher salt
1 cup sugar
2 jalapeño chiles, minced
Grated zest of 3 limes (save the limes for juice for the dressing)
½ cup chopped cilantro
2 dried guajillo chiles, toasted, seeded, and crumbled
1 small side very fresh wild sockeye salmon (about 1¼ pounds), skin on, pin bones removed
¼ cup tequila
FOR THE DRESSING
⅓ cup fresh lime juice
4 large egg yolks
2 cups extra virgin olive oil
3 chipotle chiles in adobo, drained and pureed
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons minced shallot
4 to 6 white anchovy fillets, drained and pureed
1 jalapeño chile, minced
1 tablespoon minced cilantro
½ teaspoon ground cumin
Pinch of cayenne pepper
3 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese
Fine sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper, preferably smoked pepper
FOR THE SALAD
2 heads romaine, separated into individual leaves, rinsed, and patted dry
Guacamole (recipe follows)
2 cups Paul’s Garlic Croutons (page 167)
4 heirloom tomatoes, quartered and lightly salted (best choices include Hawaiian Pineapple, Hillbilly, Caspian Pink, Green Zebra, Black Krim, and Brandywine)
Parmesan cheese, shaved into wafers, for garnish (optional)
2 cups toasted or pan-fried corn tortilla strips (optional)
1 cup bite-size bits queso fresco, cut or crumbled
Pico de gallo, for garnish (optional)
1. To make the salmon: 2 to 3 days before serving, thoroughly mix together the salt, sugar, jalapeños, lime zest, cilantro, and guajillos. Spread one-third on the bottom of a glass baking dish just large enough to hold the salmon. Place the fish skin side down in the dish and spread with the remaining cure. Sprinkle the tequila evenly over the salmon. Cover with plastic wrap, then place a slightly smaller baking dish on top and add some weights to ensure even curing (5 pounds is enough). Refrigerate the salmon for 2 to 3 days, depending on the thickness.
2. Once the salmon has cured, remove from the pan and scrape off the cure ingredients. Rinse under cold water and pat dry with paper towels. If not using immediately, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate. The salmon will keep for about five days in the refrigerator.
3. To make the dressing: In a glass or plastic bowl, whisk together the lime juice and egg yolks. Drizzle in the oil, whisking continuously, until the yolks have absorbed all of the olive oil and the base has been emulsified. Stir in the chipotles, garlic, shallot, anchovy puree, jalapeño, cilantro, cumin, cayenne, and Parmesan. Stir in salt and pepper to taste. Transfer to a covered storage container and refrigerate. (You can also make the dressing in a food processor or a blender: Combine the lime juice and egg yolks. With the machine running, slowly drizzle in the oil and process until an emulsion forms. Add the remaining ingredients and blend until combined. Season with salt and pepper.) This makes about 2¾ cups of dressing; it will keep for about 1 week in the refrigerator.
4. To assemble the salad: Cut the salmon on an angle into very thin slices—cutting down to, but not through, the skin. Arrange the romaine leaves on four dinner plates and top with salmon slices. Drizzle the dressing over the leaves. Garnish with dollops of guacamole, croutons, tomato wedges, and, if desired, shaved Parmesan, tortilla strips, queso fresco, and pico de gallo.
SERVES 4
2 ripe Hass avocados, pitted and peeled
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1½ teaspoons fresh lime juice
3 tablespoons pico de gallo
Kosher salt and cayenne pepper
Mash the avocados with the lemon and lime juices. Stir in the pico de gallo and season to taste with salt and cayenne. Use immediately.
MAKES ABOUT 2 CUPS
CLEVELAND, OHIO
The first time he ordered a “wedge salad” in a California restaurant, Drew Kime, a former U.S. Marine, was eager to try something new. When it arrived, he burst out laughing. The “wedge” turned out to be the trendy name for the salads his mother, a no-frills “baked chicken, baked potato, vanilla ice cream” cook, served when he was growing up. Mr. Kime’s version relies on homemade bacon bits. “It’s just a matter of grinding and frying the bacon,” he said. “Unless you’ve got a large, heavy-duty grinder, it’s a lot easier if you slice it into small chunks and freeze it first for an hour or so. Once it’s frozen, feed it through your grinder. It will look like long strands of meat, but it’s actually lots of little bits that are slightly stuck to each other. Once they hit the frying pan they’ll separate without any special effort.”
The advantage of iceberg lettuce is not only its longevity—it keeps for days—but also its crispness and handsome presentation.
1 medium head iceberg lettuce, cored and quartered
2 medium-size ripe tomatoes, cored and quartered
1 medium cucumber, peeled, halved lengthwise, seeded, and thinly sliced
1 medium red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and cut into ¼-inch strips
8 slices bacon, cooked, drained, and crumbled
1 cup Paul’s Garlic Croutons (page 167)
1 recipe Rogue Creamery’s Best Blue Cheese Dressing Ever (page 166)
1 ounce blue cheese, crumbled (about ¼ cup), for garnish
Divide the iceberg quarters among four plates. Top evenly with the tomatoes, cucumber, bell pepper, bacon, croutons, and dressing. Sprinkle with the blue cheese and serve.
SERVES 4
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
Like many culinary classics, the meal-size green salad composed of several meats and cheeses, hard-cooked eggs, various vegetables, and “French” dressing comes with many myths about its origins. Before the name “chef’s salad” was given to the specific salad that we know today, it implied a dish made from the ingredients that were on hand; there are also stories about diners hijacking the salad a chef had made for himself. The earliest printed mentions appeared in New York City in the 1930s, when chef Louis Diat created a meal-size salad with anchovies, smoked tongue, and watercress. With the presumption that it was “light” and “dietetic,” the salad rode the slick of fame from fine dining to ho-hum; somewhere along the way, “chef’s” became “chef” and the salad devolved into a bale of iceberg lettuce topped with strips of yellow and white cheese, hard-boiled eggs, deli ham, and turkey roll. But in the past decade, the chef salad has made a comeback in combinations like this one, in which sliced lamb is combined with a raw artichoke salad, potatoes, and shaved Parmesan cheese. This salad is inspired by leftover meat and potatoes, but is more than worth making from scratch.
FOR THE POTATOES
2½ pounds small red potatoes, scrubbed and quartered
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE LAMB
Six 6-ounce slices boneless lamb loin, trimmed
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt Lake City, circa 1908.
2 pounds fresh fava beans, shelled
2 teaspoons olive oil
Kosher salt and coarsely ground black pepper
½ cup Meyer Lemon Vinaigrette (page 171)
12 cups tart greens such as arugula or watercress
2 cups Raw Artichoke Salad (page 205)
2 cups Paul’s Garlic Croutons (page 167)
1 cup pitted Kalamata or oil-cured olives
1 teaspoon chopped fresh parsley
2 ounces Parmesan cheese, shaved (1½ to 2 cups)
1. To make the potatoes: Preheat the oven to 425°F. In a roasting pan, toss the potatoes with the olive oil, 2 teaspoons of the rosemary, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Roast for 30 to 40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until golden brown and tender.
2. Cool to room temperature. Toss with the remaining rosemary. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. To make the lamb: Pat the lamb dry with paper towels and season on both sides with salt and pepper. In a large nonstick skillet, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Cook the lamb about 4 minutes per side, until browned on both sides and an instant-read thermometer registers 125°F (for medium).
4. Transfer the lamb to a carving board and let rest for 5 minutes. Thinly slice the lamb across the grain and season with salt and pepper to taste.
5. To make the salad: Bring 1 quart water to a boil in a medium saucepan and add 1 tablespoon salt. Add the fava beans and cook until tender, 4 to 8 minutes. Drain in a colander and rinse under cold running water until the beans are cool. Pinching the skins, squeeze the beans out into a bowl. Toss with the olive oil and season with ½ teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper.
6. Place the vinaigrette in the bottom of a large bowl, add the greens, and toss. Add the potatoes, artichoke salad, fava beans, croutons, and olives, and toss again. Divide the salad among six plates and top with the sliced lamb. Sprinkle with the chopped parsley and scatter the Parmesan over the top. Serve.
SERVES 6
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Cobb salad’s undisputed Los Angeles origin comes with a tale of midnight refrigerator scrounging followed by enthusiasm from a Hollywood promoter. That it all happened in the Brown Derby restaurant—famous for its novelty hat-shape architecture and its celebrity clientele and caricatures—made the salad seem even sexier. One night circa 1936, Brown Derby owner Bob Cobb diced up leftover avocado, tomato, eggs, chicken, bacon, and Roquefort cheese, arranged them in a striped pattern in a flat salad bowl, and topped it all with French dressing. His promoter pal Sid Grauman, of Chinese Theater fame, who may have witnessed the birth—or not—quickly trumpeted the salad’s delights. Movie stars flocked to try it, and Jack Warner often sent his chauffeur to pick up a carton. Although the landmark Brown Derby closed in 1985 and was demolished in 1994 after earthquake damage, Cobb salad has sold more than 4 million servings in Brown Derby–licensed restaurants from Tokyo to Las Vegas.
Rob Lam, the son of a Vietnamese refugee, grew up in Orange County, California’s Little Saigon. The Cobb salad that he serves at his San Francisco restaurant, Butterfly, reflects his East-meets-West background. His addition of “shaking beef” exemplifies, he says, “the shift from dainty side dish to something grown men order for dinner.”
2 tablespoons minced garlic
2 tablespoons minced ginger
1 tablespoon thinly sliced scallion
1 teaspoon oyster sauce
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper
1 pound beef tenderloin, trimmed and cut into ½-inch cubes
Vegetable oil, for sautéing
FOR THE SALAD
6 slices bacon, cut into ½-inch pieces
6 large eggs
12 cups mixed baby greens or mesclun mix
Shallot-Thyme Balsamic Vinaigrette (recipe follows)
6 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto
6 ounces Maytag blue cheese, crumbled (about 1½ cups)
½ pint cherry or grape tomatoes
½ medium English cucumber, thinly sliced
2 Hass avocados, pitted, peeled, and sliced
1. To make the beef: Combine the garlic, ginger, scallion, oyster sauce, and pepper in a medium bowl. Add the beef and mix well to coat the meat. Cover and refrigerate to marinate beef for 1 hour.
2. Heat a wok or large skillet over medium-high heat. When hot, pour in 1 to 2 tablespoons oil and heat until shimmering but not smoking. Add the beef, working in batches if necessary so it is not crowded, and stir-fry until the beef is cooked to medium-rare, 4 to 5 minutes.
3. Transfer the beef to a baking sheet. Line two plates with several layers of paper towels.
4. To make the salad: Cook the bacon in a large skillet over medium-low heat about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until brown and crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the pieces to a plate. Discard the fat.
5. Poach the eggs until the white is barely firm and the yolk is still liquid, 2 to 3 minutes. Remove from the water with a slotted spoon and gently place on a plate to drain.
6. In a large bowl, toss the greens with dressing to taste. Divide the greens among serving plates or shallow bowls and arrange slices of prosciutto on top. Scatter the blue cheese, tomatoes, cucumber, and bacon across the greens. Add slices of avocado, and finish with the beef and a poached egg.
SERVES 5 TO 6
1 medium shallot, coarsely chopped
1½ teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
¼ cup balsamic vinegar
1 cup olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Combine the shallot, thyme, and vinegar in a blender and blend until smooth. With the blender running, slowly add the oil until an emulsion forms. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
MAKES 1¼ CUPS
BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA
A farmers’ market is a delightful counterpoint to modern life, a little patch of green in an asphalt city, an oasis of sight and touch and smell in a climate-controlled, vaccuum-sealed world. Having been eclipsed by the glamour of the supermarket some fifty years ago, farmers’ markets are flourishing again. This resurgence began in places like Ferry Plaza in San Francisco, where, every Saturday morning, one of the richest and liveliest markets in America is held.
Here truck farmers can sell their produce directly to the public, and there is something infinitely satisfying about meandering through it, taking in the smell of fresh-cut basil and mint, along with the aroma of diesel fuel and the sound of traffic from the highway nearby. Direct contact is the lure of the farmers’ market—direct contact with the growers, with the produce, and, if one is lucky, with one’s appetite.
This leads to a certain kind of improvisational cooking—simple and straightforward—characteristic of the cooks who minted California cuisine and who can be counted on to be at Ferry Plaza on Saturday mornings: to pinch the peaches and sniff the apricots and talk, as people do when their senses are engaged, with respect (and not a little awe) for the bounty of the Bay area, where mesclun is always in season and produce is nearly always pretty. Forty years ago, when she opened Chez Panisse, Alice Waters could not find the mélange of peppery lettuces that she’d fallen for for Salade Niçoise. There were no farmers’ markets, and she scoured ethnic markets in the Bay Area in vain. The only solution was to bring the seeds back from France and plant them in her backyard. She never imagined that the simple salads she fashioned with her home-grown greens and little discs of delicate goat cheese that a friend made for her would capture the American imagination and become the poster child for eating close to the earth and in accord with the seasons.
“You never know when you begin. Later you start to see how one thing that attracted you was connected to something else, and in hindsight a sort of logic emerges that makes you think you knew what you were doing. But forty years ago, I couldn’t have imagined that I’d one day have to bring seeds from my garden in north Berkeley back to France. But I do. And I have to constantly revisit every ingredient we use. Last year’s artisanal cheese is next year’s mass-produced one; the same is true of olive oil. There is no place to hide in a simple dish like this. Each ingredient has to be flawless.”
4 sprigs fresh thyme
1 bay leaf, crumbled
4 ounces soft mild goat cheese, sliced into four ½-inch rounds
½ cup fine dry bread crumbs
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
5 cups lightly packed fresh greens (arugula, lamb’s lettuce, small oak leaf and red leaf lettuces, and chervil)
1. In a small shallow dish, combine ¼ cup of the olive oil, the thyme, and bay leaf. Add the cheese, coating well with oil, cover, and refrigerate for 2 to 12 hours.
2. Place an oven rack in the center position and preheat the oven to 450°F. Grease a small baking dish with some of the oil from the goat cheese marinade.
3. Dip the goat cheese in the bread crumbs to coat on all sides. Place the breaded cheese in the prepared baking dish and bake about 5 minutes, until the cheese is lightly bubbling and golden brown.
4. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk together the remaining ¼ cup oil and the vinegar. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add the greens and toss to coat with the vinaigrette. Divide among four plates. Place a goat cheese round on the center of each salad, and serve.
SERVES 4
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Corinna Sicoutris, 38, cooks as her grandmother taught her—by taste and sight. Once a month she puts aside responsibilities as an acute-care nurse practitioner working with a surgical critical care service to travel from Philadelphia to join her family as they celebrate a birthday or holiday. Spread from New Jersey to metro D.C., in this extended family the primary event planners and food preparers are the grandchildren, who only allow their mother, aunts, and grandmother to advise. Still, although the younger generation has assumed the physical labor, and Ms. Sicoutris likes to bring new tastes to the table, they all keep the Greek traditions much in mind. Aunt Demetria buys one-pound blocks of feta cheese from a D.C. Greek grocery to distribute at family events, while Ms. Sicoutris scoops out Kalamata olives from barrels in a “phenomenal” Philly store. Add tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers into an enormous bowl, and pass the horiatiki—Greek salad—family style.
4 medium ripe tomatoes, cored and cut into 1-inch wedges
1 English cucumber, halved lengthwise and sliced ½-inch thick
1 medium red onion, halved and sliced ½ inch thick
8 ounces feta cheese, crumbled (about 2 cups)
1 cup pitted kalamata olives
¼ cup chopped fresh basil
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup fresh lemon juice
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a large bowl, gently toss the tomatoes, cucumber, onion, cheese, olives, basil, and lemon zest together. Drizzle with oil and lemon juice and toss to coat. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 6
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
The base of their orzo salad is horiatiki, the traditional Greek salad. Ms. Sicoutris adds plenty of lemon zest because it should “taste like summer . . . fresh, tangy, and light.”
Kosher salt
1 pound orzo
½ cup olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
1 pint grape tomatoes
1 English hothouse cucumber, quartered lengthwise and sliced
⅓ cup chopped fresh basil
1 cup pitted kalamata olives
1 pound Greek feta cheese, crumbled
Grated zest of 3 lemons
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, plus more as needed
1. Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Cook the orzo until al dente. Drain well, rinse with cold water, and drain again. Spread out on a baking sheet to cool, then mix with a little of the olive oil and season with salt and pepper.
2. Transfer the orzo to a large bowl. Add the tomatoes, cucumber, basil, olives, feta, and lemon zest. Add black pepper to taste. Toss to mix.
3. Drizzle with the remaining olive oil, then add the lemon juice. The salad should be very tangy. Toss well and serve immediately, or cover and refrigerate to allow the flavors to blend. Toss again before serving.
SERVES 6 TO 8
FAIRLEE, VERMONT
Although she was born in Oklahoma Osage territory, Nova Kim didn’t learn the art of foraging for wild edibles from her Osage forebears, but from books. “An entire generation has lost its connection to the earth,” she argues. “This is just as true for Native Americans as anyone else.” But her partner in life and work, Leslie Hooks, learned early on to scrounge free things to survive. Growing up mountain poor with eight brothers and sisters, Mr. Hooks could hunt and fish for dinner by age 11, and he learned from his father how to locate fiddleheads, watercress, and wild leeks with the accuracy of a GPS system. Today Ms. Kim and Mr. Hooks are celebrated for having brought 150 varieties of mushrooms to the Vermont culinary trade. They still supply a few restaurants, but spend most of their time teaching wild plant use and sustainability to college students and the public.
Kosher salt
24 fresh fiddlehead ferns, trimmed
2 cups lightly packed wild watercress, stemmed and coarsely chopped
2 cups lightly packed tender wild oxeye daisy greens, stemmed and coarsely chopped
1 cup bright yellow wild daylily tubers with tender shoots, trimmed
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar or raspberry vinegar
Freshly ground black pepper
½ cup wild red raspberries
1. In a large pot, bring 2 quarts water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil. Fill a medium bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath.
2. Add the fiddleheads to the boiling water and cook for 3 to 5 minutes, until tender. Using a slotted spoon, transfer them to the ice bath and let cool, then drain well and transfer to a large bowl.
3. Add the watercress, daisy greens, daylily tubers and shoots, oil, and vinegar to the fiddleheads, and toss gently to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle the raspberries over the top, and serve.
SERVES 6
ST. PETERSBURG, FLORIDA
When Paula Ives was growing up in Indiana, her mother kept a garden with tomatoes and the usual vegetables, but a neighbor grew one that, back then, was exotic: asparagus. It was the beginning of a love affair. Now Ms. Ives lives in Florida, where she grows fruit trees by collecting local seeds or pits that she finds in vacant lots and foreclosed houses. She trades seedlings with her neighbors, one of whom has a loquat tree loaded with fruit, many more than he and the wild parrots that squawk around the tree can eat. So Ms. Ives picks a few pounds and pairs them with new asparagus.
8 to 10 ripe loquats, peeled and seeded
½ cup olive oil
¼ cup rice vinegar
½ teaspoon ground coriander
½ teaspoon ground marjoram
½ teaspoon mustard powder
⅛ teaspoon sugar
2 bunches pencil-thin asparagus, trimmed and cut on the bias into 1-inch pieces
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a blender, process the loquats, oil, vinegar, coriander, marjoram, mustard, and sugar together until smooth and creamy. Transfer the dressing to a medium bowl, and stir in the asparagus until evenly coated. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
Elizabeth Williams calls this “Three-Generation Olive Salad” because both she and her mother have tweaked her grandmother Elisabetta Lecce Baiamonte’s traditional Italian olive salad to make it their own. While she uses it most often as a dressing for a muffaletta sandwich, Ms. Williams likes it best on an antipasto platter, served on an artichoke leaf as an appetizer, or in a tossed green salad. The best part of her variation, she says, is that it is forgiving in terms of amounts. But using the best olives is nonnegotiable. “The better the olives, the better the salad.”
1 anchovy fillet
Extra virgin olive oil
2 cups coarsely chopped pitted black olives
3 cups coarsely chopped pimento-stuffed green olives
One 9-ounce package frozen quartered baby artichokes, thawed, drained, and coarsely chopped
1½ cups coarsely chopped cauliflower (optional)
3 celery stalks, coarsely chopped
3 carrots, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 lemon, halved and very thinly sliced
¼ cup capers, drained and coarsely chopped
¼ cup chopped fresh oregano or 1 tablespoon dried
4 garlic cloves, minced
Freshly ground black pepper
Fresh lemon juice
In a large bowl, mash the anchovy and 1 tablespoon oil with a fork, until a smooth paste forms. Stir in the black and green olives, artichokes, cauliflower, if using, the celery, carrots, lemon, capers, oregano, and garlic until combined. Season with pepper and lemon juice to taste. Add enough olive oil to just barely cover the mixture. Cover and let sit about 30 minutes, until the flavors have blended.
MAKES ABOUT 8 CUPS
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH
Kalyn Denny grew up in Salt Lake City, where she taught elementary school for thirty years. For ten of those years, she spent her summer vacations cooking on (and sometimes even driving) houseboats on Lake Powell. Those summers gradually took a toll on her waistline, and a few years ago she began to invent lean dishes; while visiting her family in Chicago, she made this salad. “We were going to have a picnic at the Chicago Botanic Garden later in the day, and I started poking around in the refrigerator—I like to use what is on hand—and this is what I came up with. It’s become a family favorite.” One of the secrets is the roasted tomato–basil vinaigrette, which follows the principles of a low-glycemic diet but has a rich, concentrated flavor.
Lake Powell boat area, Arizona
¾ cup Slow-Roasted Tomatoes (recipe follows) or one 14.5-ounce can fire-roasted tomatoes, drained
¼ cup white balsamic vinegar or white wine vinegar
¼ cup chopped fresh basil
2 tablespoons water
1 garlic clove, minced
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE SALAD
1 pound green beans, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces
1 medium red onion, halved and thinly sliced
½ cup pitted kalamata olives, halved
6 ounces feta cheese, crumbled (about 1½ cups)
1. To make the dressing: In a blender, process the tomatoes, vinegar, basil, water, and garlic together until smooth. Transfer the dressing to a medium bowl and whisk in the olive oil until combined. If necessary, add the water to adjust the consistency. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
2. To make the salad: Fill a medium bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. In a large saucepan with a steamer insert, steam the green beans about 5 minutes, until just crisp-tender. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the green beans to the ice bath and let cool. Drain well and transfer to a medium bowl.
3. Stir the dressing, onion, and olives into the green beans. Cover and refrigerate about 4 hours, until completely chilled. Sprinkle with the cheese, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
2 tablespoons olive oil, plus more for the pan
2 tablespoons dried basil
1 tablespoon ground fennel
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon dried marjoram
20 plum tomatoes, cored and halved lengthwise
1. Place an oven rack in the center position and preheat the oven to 250°F. Grease a large rimmed baking sheet with olive oil.
2. In a large bowl, mix together the oil, basil, fennel, oregano, and marjoram. Add the tomatoes and toss until well coated. Arrange the tomatoes cut side down on the baking sheet. Bake for 8 to 9 hours, until the skins puff up and tomatoes have reduced in size by at least half. Store covered in the refrigerator.
MAKES ABOUT 3 CUPS
ROCKLAND, MAINE
At Suzuki’s Sushi Bar in Rockland, Maine, the chefs are all women. Without stoves, ovens, or a deep-fat fryer, the cooking happens on three electric induction burners topped with pots of boiling water and a homemade steaming system of wooden and glass boxes. Fish are likely to come from the Gulf of Maine, and chef-owner Keiko Suzuki Steinberger usually has surf clams, sweet shrimp, scallops, grey sole, line-caught mackerel, and local oysters. This refined avocado salad with seaweed is as elegant as a sliver of sashimi.
FOR THE DRESSING
2 tablespoons dry sake
2 tablespoons water
5 tablespoons sweet white miso
1 tablespoon sugar
1 large egg yolk
Soy sauce
FOR THE SALAD
2 ripe Hass avocados, halved, pitted, and sliced ½ inch thick
½ cucumber, halved lengthwise, seeded, and thinly sliced
¼ cup dried wakame, reconstituted in warm water
¼ cup sesame seeds, toasted and crushed
1. To make the dressing: In a large saucepan, bring 1 quart water to a bare simmer over medium-low heat. Fill a large bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath.
2. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, mix together the sake and water. In a medium heatproof bowl (preferably metal), whisk together the miso, sugar, and egg yolk until smooth and the sugar has completely dissolved. Slowly whisk in the sake mixture until combined. Season with soy sauce to taste.
3. Place the bowl with the dressing on top of the saucepan and cook over barely simmering water, whisking constantly, for 6 to 8 minutes, until thickened. Place the bowl in the ice bath and let sit, whisking occasionally, until cool.
4. To make the salad: Divide the avocados, cucumber, and wakame among four shallow serving bowls. Drizzle 2 tablespoons dressing over each pile, sprinkle with the sesame seeds, and serve.
SERVES 4
DOTHAN, ALABAMA
When Paula Hennig first moved to Alabama from Pennsylvania, where her Mennonite dairy-farming grandparents also lived, “it was culture shock.” Her mom made bread and baked cakes, sending her sisters and her to school with whole-wheat bread sandwiches, while “everyone else had white bread.” They had a family garden on their forty acres of land, and her dad went into hydroponic farming. For a short time she and her sister operated a northern Italian restaurant, making everything from scratch. Ms. Hennig called it a “new experience for people in town who expected red sauce.”
Now living in Dothan, which proclaims itself the “peanut capital of the world,” Ms. Hennig came up with this recipe in honor of the corn that she, her mother, and her sisters froze every year. The annual process took a whole Saturday, and the kids dreaded it. She remembers thinking, “‘I’m never going to freeze corn,’ but somehow you turn into your parents and start to see the logic.” She first made this salad as a side dish with grilled chicken thighs, and it was so good that whenever they had corn, her husband, an airline pilot, said, “Make that again.”
Kosher salt
5 ears corn, husks and silks removed
1 medium tomato, cored and coarsely chopped
2 ounces feta cheese, crumbled (about ½ cup)
½ cup finely chopped red onion
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
½ cup shredded fresh basil
1. In a large pot, bring 10 cups water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil. Fill a large bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. Cook the corn for 2 minutes. Using tongs, transfer the corn to the ice bath and let cool, then drain well. Cut the kernels from the cobs and transfer to a medium bowl, discarding the cobs.
2. Add the tomato, feta, onion, vinegar, oil, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper to the corn, and toss to combine. Check the seasoning and adjust with salt and pepper to taste. Before serving, add the basil and toss to combine.
SERVES 4
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
Alex Vlack’s parents divorced when he was a toddler, and at age 5 he moved with his mother to California. He spent vacations and some holidays in New York with his father, a restaurant-obsessed “amateur gourmet” who took the 7-year-old Alex to the legendary French restaurant Lutèce. Back on the West Coast, his mother and grandmother endlessly discussed, sampled, and ate tomatoes during their annual season. Mr. Vlack now demonstrates his own reverence for tomatoes by pairing them with his two other loves, height-of-summer corn and crab, for a salad he likens to “a lobster or crab roll without the mustard or mayo.” He cuts thick tomato slices and uses them as an edible plate with the salad on top.
Kosher salt
2 ears corn, husks and silks removed
1 pound jumbo lump crabmeat, picked over for shells and cartilage
2 cups chopped fresh cilantro
1 mango, peeled, pitted, and cut into ½-inch pieces
2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
2 large ripe heirloom tomatoes, cored and sliced ½ inch thick
1 ripe Hass avocado, halved, pitted, peeled, and sliced ½ inch thick
1. In a large pot, bring 10 cups water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil. Fill a large bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. Cook the corn for 2 minutes. Using tongs, transfer the corn to the ice bath and let cool, then drain well. Cut the kernels from the cobs and transfer to a medium bowl, discarding the cobs.
2. Add the crabmeat, cilantro, mango, and oil to the corn and stir gently to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. Arrange the tomato slices on a serving platter. Place 2 or 3 avocado slices on each slice. Top with a mound of salad, and serve.
SERVES 4
RENSSELAERVILLE, NEW YORK
Writing screenplays, directing films, teaching screenwriting in the Film Division at Columbia University’s Graduate School of the Arts, raising two children: Each of these occupations alone could be a career. Katherine Dieckmann juggles all these things and insists that the family sit down to a homemade dinner together four nights a week. Having grown up in Ithaca, home of both the Moosewood Restaurant and the Cabbagetown Café, she loves vegetarian cooking as much as she loves bacon. Vegetables are her forte, and she approaches them as she does any ingredient, without measuring utensils or a timer. This salad is different every time she makes it, but it is a favorite at the girls’ night suppers that Katherine and her artist and writer friends share in Rensselaerville, a village in upstate New York where she spends the weekends.
FOR THE SALAD
3 medium beets, scrubbed and trimmed
1 tablespoon kosher salt
4 ears corn, husks and silks removed
1½ cups chopped red cabbage
¼ cup chopped fresh dill or cilantro
1 medium red onion, minced
FOR THE DRESSING
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. Fill a large bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. In a medium saucepan, bring the beets and 2 quarts water to a simmer until tender, 40 minutes to 1 hour. Using tongs, transfer the beets to the ice bath. When cool enough to handle, peel under running water and cut into medium dice. Transfer to a large bowl.
2. In a large pot, bring 10 cups water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil. Cook the corn for 2 minutes. Using tongs, transfer the corn to the ice bath and let cool, then drain well. Cut the kernels from the cobs and transfer to the bowl with the beets, discarding the cobs. Add cabbage, dill or cilantro, and onion. Toss lightly.
3. To make the dressing: Whisk together the vinegar and mustard in a small bowl. Keep whisking while slowly drizzling in the olive oil. Whisk until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
4. Add dressing to the salad, toss, cover, and refrigerate for at least a couple of hours before serving.
SERVES 6
ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN
One of Cynthia Hodges’s favorite recipes came to her a decade ago, when her children were babies and she was a member of La Leche League of Ann Arbor, Michigan, and Lenawee County. For the annual fund-raiser, the World Walk for Breastfeeding, the women would hold a mini-walkathon followed by a fabulous potluck. A friend brought beet salad, and Ms. Hodges has been tweaking the recipe and eating the salad ever since. Her version uses fresh herbs, but she says that dried could be used in a pinch. Her son Edward started cooking when he was 5 or 6, “just as soon as he was able to get up to the counter.” She thinks the reason he likes to make this recipe has more to do with the chopping than anything else. “He uses a Zyliss chopper. I think he just likes to make a lot of noise.”
1 bunch beets (4 large beets, scrubbed and trimmed)
¼ cup shelled raw pumpkin seeds
2 scallions, green and white parts, finely chopped
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
¾ teaspoon Dijon mustard
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh basil
¼ pound feta cheese (optional)
1. Remove and reserve the greens from the beets, leaving about ½ inch of the stems intact. Scrub the beets. Place them in a large saucepan filled with water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Lower the heat, and simmer about 1 hour, until the beets are tender. Drain and let cool.
2. Toast the pumpkin seeds in a dry skillet over medium heat until fragrant. Remove the seeds from the skillet.
3. Wash the greens by submerging them in a sink full of cold water, then drain. Pour 1 inch of water into a large skillet, and heat to a simmer over medium heat. Drop the greens into simmering water, and cook about 30 seconds, until tender and juicy. Drain the greens in a colander, and gently run cold water over them to halt the cooking.
4. Peel the beets by cutting off the tops and slipping the skins off with your hands. Slice the beets into thin half-moons, and place them in a large salad bowl. Squeeze any excess water out of the greens, and chop them. Add the greens, pumpkin seeds, and scallions to the beets.
5. Combine the oil, vinegar, mustard, pepper, and basil in a jar with a tight-fitting lid and shake well. Pour the dressing over the salad, and toss gently. Crumble the feta cheese on top, if using. Serve at room temperature or chilled.
SERVES 6
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
Floyd Cardoz, executive chef of Tabla in New York City, has received dozens of accolades for his innovative cooking, but, he says, he is just “scratching the surface of Indian American cuisine.” With a background in biochemistry and culinary training in India, Switzerland, and the United States, Chef Cardoz understands the currents of cross-cultural experience. In the past decade, along with the wave of well-educated East Asian immigrants who followed high-paying technology jobs to the United States, the demand for artful Indian cooking has boomed. The affluent transplants—and their American-born friends—are not interested in the “gooey, overpowering, spicy, greasy, unidentifiable” renditions of North India’s Mughlai cooking traditionally offered in American restaurants, says the chef. He draws from the disparate cooking traditions of the twenty-eight states in his native country but leans on local ingredients. Instead of using imported frozen pomfret for a fish curry, for instance, he might use fresh striped bass or halibut. He embraces New Mexico chiles “for their red sweetness,” substituting them for Kashmiri chiles. “I grill more with Indian spices than is normal in India,” he said. “If I’m cooking a good piece of meat or fish I wouldn’t cook it well done, as in India, but medium rare.” His often-mimicked watermelon salad is all about family: His father ate watermelon with salt, and his wife eats it with chaat masala—a popular Indian spice mixture—and this brought him to watermelon with salt, pepper, and lime juice, a perfect example of the balance of sweet, salt, sour, and spice. He added, “And then I like to put in mint since there is always mint in summer. Sometimes I put in ginger or heart of palm to play with texture.”
2 limes
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
½ teaspoon finely chopped serrano chile
¾ teaspoon chaat masala
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
8 generous cups diced seeded watermelon
1 cup lightly packed arugula, torn into pieces
¼ cup sliced hearts of palm
½ cup chopped fresh mint
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro
Kosher salt
Russell “Fat Man” Fields, Harlem, New York.
1. Remove the zest from the limes and cut into thin strips. Juice the limes and reserve the juice.
2. In a small bowl, combine the lime zest, lime juice, ginger, chile, chaat masala, pepper, and oil. In a large bowl, gently toss together the watermelon, hearts of palm, arugula, mint, and cilantro.
3. Slowly pour the dressing over the watermelon mixture, season with salt, and combine gently. Serve.
SERVES 8
Girl Scouts in Mrs. Herbert Hoover’s garden.
COLUMBIA, SOUTH CAROLINA
Self-proclaimed “barbecue provocateur” Dan Huntley believes that even the best smoked pig is not fully authentic until it snuggles up to some traditional Carolina red slaw. See his recipe for Baby Back Ribs (pages 503–505).
1 large head green cabbage
½ cup packed dark brown sugar
⅓ cup apple cider vinegar
½ cup ketchup
¼ cup tomato-based barbecue sauce (preferably Sweet Baby Ray’s, or your favorite)
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper
1½ teaspoons hot sauce (preferably Tabasco sauce)
Core and quarter the cabbage, then slice quarters into matchsticks by hand or in a food processor, and place in a large bowl. Combine the sugar, vinegar, ketchup, barbecue sauce, salt, black pepper, cayenne, and hot sauce in a small bowl. Pour over the cabbage and mix thoroughly. Cover and chill for 1 hour before serving.
SERVES 8 TO 10
UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
When Livingston and Bonnie Paulk’s Florida farm failed in 1917, the couple moved back to Union Springs, Alabama. They planted two pounds of cabbage seed and sold every plant. More than ninety years later, Bonnie Plant Farm, the company they created, is so successful that it supports a remarkable program to give cabbage plants—a million and a half of them in 2009—to third graders to get them interested in gardening, nature, and the outdoors. The students grow giant heads over the summer and take them to school in the fall along with a picture. As part of the program, Bonnie Plant awards a $1,000 scholarship to a student in each state.
As a thirty-five-year employee and now office manager of Bonnie Plant, Sharon Capps has seen a lot of cabbage in her 54 years. Her family and coworkers love her coleslaw. “I’m making it next week for the board of directors using cabbage from our garden plot. We’ll serve it with fried catfish, some kind of potatoes, and hush puppies.”
1 medium head green cabbage, cored and shredded
1 cup mayonnaise
⅓ cup chopped sweet pickles
¼ cup sugar
¼ cup distilled white vinegar
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a large bowl, mix together the cabbage, mayonnaise, pickles, sugar, and vinegar until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour before serving.
SERVES 6 TO 8
ST. PAUL, MINNESOTA
When the Hmong community in St. Paul, Minnesota, gathers to celebrate New Year in early December, the young and eligible play a ball-toss game. Traditional belief holds that the ball will point them to their soul mate. They also eat tuav gaub—spicy green papaya salad. A teenage boy in baggy jeans, Cheng Lor has been making it as an afternoon snack since the age of 8. He pays attention to technique, mixing the salad enough to blend with the seasoning, but not so much that the green papaya loses its crunch. For supper, it’s a spicy accompaniment to roast pork, chicken, and grilled fish.
2 tablespoons unsweetened peanut butter
4 cherry tomatoes, finely chopped
1 Thai bird chili, stemmed and finely chopped, plus more as needed
1 garlic clove, minced
1 teaspoon shrimp paste (preferably Twin Chicken brand)
½ teaspoon crab extract
1 small green papaya, peeled, seeded, and shredded
3 tablespoons tamarind soup base mix
4½ teaspoons fish sauce
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
3 Chinese long beans, minced
1 teaspoon monosodium glutamate (preferably Twin Chicken brand, optional)
Kosher salt
In a large bowl, whisk the peanut butter, tomatoes, chile, garlic, shrimp paste, and crab extract together until combined. Stir in the papaya, soup base, fish sauce, sugar, lime juice, beans, and MSG, if using. Cover and let sit for 15 minutes, until the papaya has softened slightly. Season with additional chile and salt to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4
AUSTIN, TEXAS
Toni Tipton-Martin grew up in the center of Los Angeles, but her family’s hillside yard could easily have been mistaken for a farm. “My mother was obsessed,” she said. “We had every vegetable you could imagine: California stone fruit, black and red raspberries, a half-dozen types of citrus, apples, and avocados. My mother even tried to cultivate Asian pears. And Friday night dinner was salad, a big chef salad.” Her children’s favorite, on the other hand, is this cabbage and Ramen noodle salad that was inspired by a recipe that appeared in the Los Angeles Times. “Neighbors ask me to bring it to potlucks, even in the dead of winter,” said Ms. Tipton-Martin, who founded a nonprofit that teaches at-risk youngsters to take better care of themselves by growing and preparing fresh produce of their own.
FOR THE SALAD
2 (3-ounce) packages Ramen noodles
2 tablespoons oil
¼ cup sliced almonds
¼ cup sesame seeds
8 green onions, thinly sliced
1 head cabbage, finely chopped
FOR THE SUMI DRESSING
¼ cup sugar
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup oil
6 tablespoons rice vinegar
1. For the salad: Break the noodles into 1-inch pieces and place in a large bowl. Reserve the seasoning packet for another use. Heat the oil in a skillet, and sauté the almonds and sesame seeds until lightly browned. Remove from heat and allow to cool.
2. For the Sumi dressing: Combine the sugar, pepper, salt, oil and vinegar in a glass jar and shake well.
3. Add the onions, cabbage, and cooled almonds and sesame seeds to the noodles. Toss with the Sumi dressing, cover, and chill for several hours to allow the flavors to meld.
MAKES 10 TO 12 SERVINGS
SCOTTSDALE, ARIZONA
Ayear after they emigrated from Sicily to Pittsburgh, Gina Caldrone Tsongas’s great-grandparents were finally able to have the raw sliced fennel salad that had always been a part of Christmas Eve dinner: “They couldn’t buy it, they had to grow it.” Her forebears sliced the bulb in wafer-thin, carpaccio-like slices, but when she brought the dish to potlucks and cookouts when she was in college, she cut the fennel like slaw. She added the cumin and chiles after marrying and moving to the Southwest. Today, her grandmother uses this recipe for her Christmas Eve meal. The slaw is terrific with spicy grilled fish or meat.
3 medium fennel bulbs, cored and thinly sliced
¼ cup chopped fennel fronds
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons fresh orange juice
2 tablespoons fennel seeds, lightly crushed
1½ teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon grated orange zest
1 garlic clove, minced
¾ teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon red pepper flakes
⅛ teaspoon red chili flakes
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
In a large bowl, mix together the sliced fennel, fennel fronds, lemon and orange juices, fennel seeds, oil, orange zest, garlic, cumin, pepper flakes, and chili flakes until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and let sit at room temperature for 1 hour before serving.
SERVES 6
CASTROVILLE, CALIFORNIA
Artichoke season peaks in the spring, but there is a second crop in September, in time for the annual Castroville Artichoke Festival. Castroville is the self-proclaimed “artichoke capital of the world,” and in fall artichokes are piled high along the streets and cooked in hundreds of guises. Once the leaves have been peeled or trimmed away, the cook is left with the artichoke heart, which looks like the inverted center of a daisy. It is as dense as a winter tuber, but its flavor is as delicate as spring.
2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
8 large fresh artichokes
4 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 large radicchio leaves
1 ounce Parmesan cheese, thinly shaved
1 scallion, green part only, thinly sliced
1. In a large bowl, combine 2 tablespoons of the lemon juice with 2 quarts cold water. Cut the stem from the artichoke and snap off the tough, dark outer leaves. Cut off the tops of the remaining leaves, leaving about 1 inch. Use a spoon to scoop out the choke from the center of the artichoke. Use a paring knife to trim any remaining dark green bits. Drop into the lemon water. When you have prepped all the artichoke hearts, slice them very thinly and return to the acidulated water.
2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the remaining 2 teaspoons lemon juice and the oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. Drain the artichoke slices and dry on paper towels. Add the artichoke hearts to the dressing and toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
4. To serve, place 1 radicchio leaf on each of four plates. Divide the salad evenly among the plates, arranging it so that it spills out of the radicchio leaves. Sprinkle each salad with the cheese and scallion, and serve.
SERVES 4
PORTLAND, MAINE
Stephen Smith describes himself as a “recovering architect.” After twenty-seven years in the business, he and his wife, Elise, a novelist writing under the name Holly Chamberlin, have discovered a new life within fifty yards of the Portland harbor. He grew up in the Midwest, so his idea of seafood was frozen fish sticks. Today, however, he can watch commercial fishing boats unload the catch across the street from his home, and he’s passionate about healthful food, beautifully cooked. After doctors diagnosed him with type 2 diabetes in 2008, he began revising old recipes to bring their nutritional values in line without giving up flavor. When his CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) farm share overloaded him with kohlrabi, carrots, and turnips, he created this root vegetable salad. The dressing is based on one he uses for spicy slaw.
Kosher salt
2 small white turnips, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces
1 carrot, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces
1 medium kohlrabi, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces
½ medium celery root, peeled and cut into ¼-inch pieces
1 teaspoon coriander seeds
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
½ cup coarsely chopped red onion
¼ cup coarsely chopped radicchio
2 tablespoons minced fresh tarragon
2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1 serrano chile, stemmed, seeded, and thinly sliced
Freshly ground black pepper
Hot sauce
1. Fill a medium bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. In a Dutch oven, bring 10 cups water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil.
2. Boil the turnips for 2 to 4 minutes, until crisp-tender. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the turnips to the ice bath and let sit about 2 minutes, until cool. Using the slotted spoon, transfer the turnips to a colander to drain. Repeat this process with the carrot, kohlrabi, and celery root, replenishing the ice as needed.
3. In a small dry skillet, toast the coriander, fennel, and cumin seeds over high heat about 2 minutes, stirring often, until aromatic and slightly darker. Grind to a powder with a mortar and pestle or spice grinder.
4. In a large bowl, mix the blanched vegetables and ground spices with the onion, radicchio, tarragon, parsley, oil, lime juice, and chile. Season with salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste. Cover and refrigerate, stirring occasionally, for 4 to 12 hours.
5. Before serving, bring the salad to room temperature and season with salt, pepper, and hot sauce to taste.
YIELD 8
PORTLAND, OREGON
Heather Arndt Anderson, a Portland, Oregon, native recently covered her front lawn and part of her back lawn with cardboard and mulch to kill the grass, then dug it up to plant vegetables. Even with her enormous garden, she still loves finding new vegetables or fruits at the grocery store. “I like to bring it home, cut it open, and smell it, so it tells me what to do with it.” She considers celeriac (celery root) unappreciated, “possibly the ugliest vegetable you could ever buy,” but one with wonderful flavor. She looks for celeriac with no soft spots or blemishes, although since “this is a vegetable with a face only a mother could love, it will be hard to tell if the skin is unblemished.”
Ms. Anderson urges cooks to make their own mayonnaise for this recipe. “If you are going to the trouble of peeling and julienning the celery root, you shouldn’t cut corners with the mayonnaise.”
FOR THE RÉMOULADE SAUCE
1 large egg yolk, at room temperature
2 teaspoons white wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup olive oil
1 small shallot, finely chopped
2 tablespoons finely chopped cornichons
2 tablespoons drained capers, finely chopped
1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
Fresh lemon juice
FOR THE SALAD
1 large celery root, peeled and cut into 2-inch matchsticks
3 inner celery stalks with leaves, thinly sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. To make the rémoulade: In a blender, process the egg yolk, vinegar, mustard, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper until combined. With the blender running, slowly add the oil in a thin stream, until the mixture thickens. When all the oil has been incorporated, transfer the mayonnaise to a small bowl and stir in the shallot, cornichons, capers, tarragon, and parsley. Season with salt, pepper, lemon zest, and lemon juice to taste.
2. To make the salad: In a large bowl, mix the celery root and celery with enough rémoulade to coat. Cover and refrigerate about 4 hours, until chilled. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
SURRY, VIRGINIA
When the Edwards clan gathers in Surry, Virginia, they always feel the presence of Aunt Gladys. With the family in the pork business since ferryboat captain Wallace Edwards—called PopPop—founded the company in 1926, a gathering usually includes an Edwards dry-aged country ham. Along with biscuits, potatoes, and vegetables, broccoli salad—made with the Edwards bacon that wins blue ribbons at the Virginia State Fair—holds a place for Aunt Gladys. She passed away more than two decades ago, but introduced a salad so lively and enduring it’s almost as though she’s there in person.
FOR THE DRESSING
1 cup mayonnaise
½ cup sugar
2 tablespoons cider or distilled white vinegar
FOR THE SALAD
2 medium heads broccoli, cut into ½-inch florets
1 medium head cauliflower, cut into ½-inch florets
10 slices thick-cut bacon, cooked and crumbled
⅔ cup raisins, soaked in hot water for 15 minutes and drained
½ cup finely chopped onion
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. To make the dressing: In a large bowl, whisk the mayonnaise, sugar, and vinegar together until combined.
2. To make the salad: Stir all of the ingredients into the bowl with the dressing until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and refrigerate 2 hours before serving.
SERVES 6 TO 8
MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA
On Erin Riley’s sixteenth birthday, her culinary world expanded beyond sloppy Joes, spaghetti, and barbecued chicken when she was treated to a dinner at Le Vichyssois, a French restaurant in the Chicago suburb where she grew up. The meal awakened her to the power of flavor and fine craftsmanship, and several years later, cooking became one of the passions she shared with Kyle McCleary, a fellow student at St. Mary’s University in Minnesota, who became her husband. He became a professional cook, and she managed marketing for an architectural firm, but inevitably, the search for flavor lead them to buy a sprawling 1880s farmhouse, where they could grow small crops of vegetables and cook. Ms. McCleary’s jams have garnered blue ribbons at the state fair cooking contest—and with dishes like this lentil salad, she and her husband are part of a new generation redefining American farmhouse cooking.
FOR THE SALAD
2 medium beets, scrubbed and trimmed
1 tablespoon olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup French green lentils, rinsed
1 carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped
½ bunch pencil-thin asparagus, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
2 or 3 wedges Meryam’s Preserved Lemons (page 82), rinsed, pulp discarded, rind minced
3 tablespoons roasted, salted shelled pepitas (pumpkin seeds)
FOR THE DRESSING
5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
2 teaspoons honey
1 shallot, finely chopped
¼ cup lightly packed fresh mint leaves
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1. To make the salad: Place the oven rack in the center position and preheat the oven to 400°F.
2. In a small bowl, coat the beets with the oil, 1 teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Wrap them in aluminum foil and place in a baking dish. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, until tender. Cool to room temperature.
3. When the beets are cool, peel them, and cut into ½-inch pieces. Transfer to a large bowl.
4. Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan, bring 2 quarts water, the lentils, carrot, and 1 teaspoon salt to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook for 25 to 35 minutes, until the lentils are tender. Drain the lentils and carrot in a colander, rinse under cold running water until cool, and drain again. Add to the beets.
5. Fill a medium bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. In the saucepan, bring 3 cups water and 2 teaspoons salt to a boil. Add the asparagus and cook about 2 minutes, until crisp-tender. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the asparagus to the ice bath and let cool. Drain well and add to the beets and lentils.
6. Stir in the preserved lemons and pepitas.
7. To make the dressing: In a blender, combine the oil, vinegar, honey, shallot, and mint, and process until smooth. Stir the dressing into the salad until combined. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE
Jeff Ross is a gardener and a biker who cooks to relax, he says, “to make sure that everybody loves me—that is very important, you know.” For this salad, which was inspired by a version served at Blackberry Farm, he prefers crowder, zipper cream, and lady peas for their great flavor, and shuns store-bought black-eyed peas. The salad is wonderful with fried chicken or barbecue, makes a great potluck offering, and when packed carefully holds up well on the back of a bike.
3 cups fresh shelled peas, preferably crowder, zipper cream, or lady
Kosher salt
4 slices bacon, cut into ½-inch pieces
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 large egg yolk
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon mustard powder
¼ teaspoon ground coriander
¼ cup grapeseed oil, plus more as needed
Freshly ground black pepper
1 medium red onion, finely chopped
¼ cup chopped fresh parsley
¼ cup chopped fresh chives
¼ teaspoon minced fresh chili pepper
1. In a large saucepan, bring 6 cups water and 1 tablespoon salt to a boil. Fill a large bowl with ice and water to make an ice bath. Line a plate with paper towels.
2. Boil the peas until tender, about 5 minutes, transfer the peas to the ice bath, and let cool. Drain well and set aside.
3. In a medium skillet, cook the bacon over medium-low heat about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until brown and crisp. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the bacon to the plate. Strain the bacon fat through a fine-mesh strainer and set aside.
4. Combine the vinegar, egg yolk, garlic, mustard, and coriander, and process in a blender until smooth. With the blender running, slowly add the oil in a thin stream, until the mixture thickens. Blend in the reserved bacon fat. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
5. Stir the dressing, bacon, onion, parsley, chives, and chili pepper into the peas. Season with salt and black pepper to taste. Let sit for 30 minutes before serving.
SERVES 6
HILLSBOROUGH, NORTH CAROLINA
Novelist Lee Smith’s mother, Virginia Smith, came to the Appalachian Mountains to teach home economics, fell in love with Lee’s “handsome daddy, Ernest Smith, and spent the rest of her life trying to civilize him and his whole rowdy clan, without much luck.” Lee’s mother’s kitchen was “the most interesting place on earth, not only because of the food but also because of the stories—she always had company, and they were always talking, talking, talking (and smoking Salem cigarettes and drinking coffee from the big old percolator in the corner). “Even today, my sense of a story is spoken, not written, and often it’s my mother’s voice that’s whispering excitedly in my ear, giving me the real lowdown.” Getting the lowdown has led the author to eleven novels, including a New York Times bestseller, three collections of short stories, and a loose-leaf binder full of recipes from family and friends.
This parsleyed potato salad recipe came to her thirty-five years ago, from her friend Lillia Johnston, whom Lee calls “the best hostess I have ever known. She plans and cooks ahead so she can relax—and she always seems to have a wonderful time at her own parties. I started making her potato salad because I wanted to have as much fun at mine.” She loves this recipe because of the horseradish that gives it a special tang and because “every time I have ever fixed this, it gets entirely eaten up.”
The salad is best if refrigerated overnight. You can use more potatoes if you wish—Lee usually throws in an extra—and the amount of scallions is really up to you.
2 pounds small red potatoes, scrubbed and sliced ¼ inch thick
Kosher salt
1¼ cups sour cream
1¼ cups mayonnaise
1½ teaspoons prepared horseradish
½ teaspoon celery seeds
1 bunch scallions, green and white parts, finely chopped
1 cup minced fresh parsley
Freshly ground black pepper
1. In a large saucepan, bring 6 cups water, the potatoes, and 1 tablespoon salt to a simmer. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, until the potatoes are just tender. Drain the potatoes, transfer to a rimmed baking sheet, and let cool to room temperature.
2. Meanwhile, in a small bowl, combine the sour cream, mayonnaise, horseradish, and celery seeds. In a second small bowl, combine the scallions and parsley.
3. In a 9 x 13-inch baking dish, arrange one-quarter of the potatoes in a single layer and season with salt and pepper. Spread about ⅔ cup of the sour cream mixture over the potatoes, then sprinkle with about ½ cup of the scallion mixture. Repeat to make four layers.
4. Cover and refrigerate the salad for 8 to 12 hours before serving.
SERVES 6 TO 8
AMHERST, MASSACHUSETTS
Eli Rogoso, the founder of the Heritage Wheat Conservancy, spends her winters in Middle East gathering seeds from ancient Fertile Crescent wheat varieties and spends the summer and fall growing those seeds in a small experimental plot at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. She dreams of the day when hundreds of drought-resistant wheat varieties can nourish the American soil and calls her work “repatriation.” The ancient grains, such as the farro that Italians dote upon, can be used to lend a distinct nuttiness to taboule, which is generally made with bulgur wheat.
½ cup farro wheat
Kosher salt
4 cups coarsely chopped fresh parsley
5 large ripe plum tomatoes, cored, seeded, and finely chopped
2 scallions, finely chopped
¼ cup fresh lime juice
Freshly ground black pepper
1. In a medium bowl, combine 2 cups boiling water, farro, and ½ teaspoon salt. Let sit for 15 to 20 minutes, until the farro is tender. Drain, transfer to a large bowl, and set aside to cool to room temperature.
2. Stir the parsley, tomatoes, scallions, lime juice, ½ teaspoon salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper into the bowl with the cooled farro. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
KEARNEY, NEBRASKA
Helga von Schweinitz grew up in Herford, Germany, near Hanover. As an adolescent in the years after World War II, “I didn’t want to be known as a girl who liked to cook,” she remembers. “My friends and I were interested in Shakespeare and existentialism, in ideas, not cooking. We were going to college.” And she wanted to see the world. Sponsored by relatives in Milwaukee, she came to the United States to work for a year. But she fell in love with her future husband, an Air Force officer, and the year turned into the rest of her life. But her ties to her homeland remain strong, as does her cooking.
“When I first came to Central Texas in 1975, it was a big surprise how much German Texans had contributed to the cultural life, how much German influence there is here. I don’t think many people in Germany are aware of this. The early German settlers in Texas were educated and community-minded; they established schools, symphonies, and libraries.” This recipe for a mayonnaise-based potato salad comes from her father. “It’s typical of the kartoffelsalat of northern Germany,” she says. “Although after the war, oil was precious and ham was scarce, so we’d eat the ham on the side instead of mixed in the salad.”
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1½ pounds small red potatoes, scrubbed and sliced ¼-inch thick
¼ pound smoked ham, cut into ½-inch cubes
½ cup finely chopped onion
¼ cup finely chopped dill pickle
2 radishes, trimmed and finely chopped
2 large eggs, hard boiled, peeled, and roughly chopped
¼ to ½ cup mayonnaise
1. In a small bowl, combine the oil, vinegar, mustard, ¼ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper.
2. In a large saucepan, bring 6 cups water, the potatoes, and 1 tablespoon salt to a simmer. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, until the potatoes are just tender. Drain the potatoes, transfer to a large bowl, and gently stir in the oil mixture. Let sit for 15 minutes.
3. Gently stir in the ham, onion, pickle, radishes, and eggs until combined. Gently stir in the mayonnaise, 2 tablespoons at a time, until the salad is creamy. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve.
SERVES 4
CLEVELAND, OHIO
Priya Venkata left her hometown, Hyderabad, the south-central Indian city with a population of more than 7 million, to earn a master’s degree in mechanical engineering at the University of Cincinnati. She had been a “passive cook,” she says, watching her mother prepare meals, but during her graduate school years homesickness took her into the kitchen. To the delight of her roommates and friends, she was able to re-create her childhood foods in a small apartment kitchen. Cooking shows on television exposed her to unfamiliar ingredients and cuisines, and she began to expand her knowledge with international recipes.
South Indian cuisine uses rice as a staple, with few or no wheat-based products, but Ms. Venkata now bakes bread every other week. One of the new recipes she tried is the Italian bread salad panzanella. To enhance the dish, she sometimes uses some of her homemade sun-dried tomatoes in place of some of the fresh ones and substitutes her own black peppercorn bread, creating a unique version that is Tuscany via Hyderabad via Cleveland.
Six 1-inch-thick slices French or Italian bread, cut into 1-inch cubes
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
2 ripe Hass avocados, halved, pitted, peeled, and cut into ½-inch pieces
2 large oranges, peel and pith removed, segmented, juice reserved
1 red onion, finely chopped
1 English cucumber, cut into ½-inch pieces
1 or 2 jalapeño chiles, stemmed, seeded, and finely chopped (optional)
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro
4 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1. Place an oven rack in the center position and preheat the oven to 400°F.
2. On a large rimmed baking sheet, toss the bread with 2 tablespoons of the oil, ½ teaspoon salt, and ¼ teaspoon pepper and spread in an even layer. Bake about 15 minutes, stirring every 5 minutes, until light golden brown. Cool to room temperature.
3. In a large bowl, combine the tomatoes, avocados, oranges, onion, cucumber, chiles, if using, and cilantro. Just before serving, stir in the bread and season with salt, pepper, reserved orange juice, and lemon juice to taste.
SERVES 4 TO 6
HOUSTON, TEXAS
In the mid-nineteenth century, the department store entered American life with the opening of A. T. Stewart’s “Marble Palace” in New York City, soon followed by Macy’s, B. Altman, Lord & Taylor, and Abraham & Straus. In cities large and small, elegant emporiums soon sold everything from perfume to carpets. Considered a natural environment for ladies of means, many featured restaurants or tearooms where shoppers could nibble salads and small sandwiches while grooming their daughters in the culture of mealtime conversation and feminine behavior. By the 1950s, department stores often featured both a tearoom and a grill where gentlemen could have an after-work drink or a hearty lunch. In many smaller towns, the in-store eatery might have been the nicest place in town to have a meal. In Texas, department store dining reached a fine art; Dallas residents still consider Neiman Marcus the last bastion of fine department store fare.
In 1951, Charles Pack often took his young bride, Mary, to lunch at Sakowitz Bros.’s Sky Terrace restaurant in Houston. They ordered the signature dish: chilled shrimp salad served over half of an avocado. When their daughter, food writer Mary Margaret, visited the Sky Terrace with her mother in the 1960s, she was awed by fragile glasses of iced tea, air-conditioning, and the occasional designer-clad model strolling between the tables. She also remembers ordering the shrimp and avocado salad that she has re-created here.
FOR THE SAUCE
1 cup mayonnaise
¼ cup cooked spinach, well drained and finely chopped
1 large egg, hard boiled, peeled, and coarsely chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 scallions, green and white parts, finely chopped
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 tablespoon Dijon or Creole-style mustard
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon anchovy paste
Kosher salt
Hot sauce
FOR THE SALAD
1½ pounds medium shrimp, boiled, peeled, deveined, and chilled
3 celery stalks, finely chopped
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 medium head iceberg lettuce, cored and shredded
3 ripe Hass avocados, halved, pitted, peeled, and sliced ½ inch thick
1. To make the sauce: In a food processor, combine the mayonnaise, spinach, egg, garlic, scallions, Worcestershire, mustard, lemon juice, and anchovy paste, and process until smooth. Season with salt and hot sauce to taste and transfer to a large bowl.
2. To make the salad: Gently stir the shrimp, celery, and lemon juice into the sauce. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover and refrigerate for 1 hour.
3. To serve, divide the shredded lettuce evenly among six plates, fan the avocado slices over the lettuce, and top with the shrimp salad.
SERVES 6
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA
With eight generations of Louisiana family behind her, Elizabeth Pearce “loves New Orleans like a person” because the city supports “people who do unusual or quirky things.” One of her unusual contributions was cooking in an 1830s kitchen over an open hearth. When she became a docent at the Hermann-Grima House in the French Quarter, she also became senior curator for the Southern Food and Beverage Museum, known as SoFAB, which celebrates the food and drink of the entire South. Following Hurricane Katrina, she organized the exhibition “Come Hell or High Water: Stories of Eating, Drinking and Surviving in Katrina’s Wake” and interviewed some of the 3,000 New Orleans evacuees who were bussed to a Memphis, Tennessee, neighborhood where residents pulled out their barbecue grills, emptied their freezers, and started cooking for them. Elizabeth firmly believes a recipe is only a starting point. New Orleans traditionally presents shrimp salad as whole boiled shrimp on a bed of greens, dressed with rémoulade sauce, but she points out that in this “wonderful sauce,” there is “room for variation.” She never makes it the same way twice. She says, “The best rémoulade is the one you eat when you are happy and are dining with loved ones. It’s that synergy that makes food memorable. I’ve been to dinner parties where the food was just okay, but it tasted fantastic because we were having such a good time. Where we are in our hearts and heads affects how food tastes and how we remember it.”
1 cup mayonnaise (preferably Hellmann’s or Best Foods)
½ cup Creole-style mustard (preferably Zatarain’s)
2 dashes of hot sauce (preferably Crystal)
½ to 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
1 or 2 celery stalks, minced
2 large eggs, hard boiled, peeled, and chopped (optional)
1 pound medium shrimp, peeled, deveined, and boiled until tender
4 cups mixed salad greens or 4 large tomatoes, hollowed out (optional)
Milk (optional)
Chopped scallions, for garnish
1. Combine the mayonnaise, mustard, hot sauce, lemon juice, garlic, and paprika in a medium bowl and stir until blended. Stir in the celery and eggs, if using. Cover and chill for 30 minutes.
2. To serve, toss the shrimp with the sauce and, if you wish, arrange on a bed of greens or in hollowed-out tomatoes. Or thin the sauce with milk and drizzle over shrimp presented on a bed of greens. Garnish with scallions.
SERVES 4
AMERICANS BUY MORE THAN 1 BILLION CANS OF TUNA each year to make scoops of salad on lettuce, lunch-box sandwiches, and casseroles. What elevated the fast-moving fighting fish from fabulous sport to kitchen staple? Canning. Many cultures, including those from the Mediterranean and Asia, have eaten fresh tuna for centuries, but until the beginning of the twentieth century, Americans ate little of it. In 1903, when the sardine supply failed, Wilbur F. Wood, supervisor in a California canning plant, needed a new product to fill his empty sardine cans, and began to experiment with albacore, then plentiful in Pacific waters. By steaming the fish and removing its natural oils to change the meat from pink to white, he created a product Americans would buy. When tuna packers launched the Bumble Bee brand, and the Van Camp Seafood Company called their product Chicken of the Sea, tuna became desirable. World War I brought high-protein canned tuna to the troops; its affordability during the Great Depression sealed its popularity. After tuna fishing practices nearly wiped out the populations of dolphins that swim with tuna, a federal law in the 1970s prohibited the importation of tuna caught with drag nets. Tuna canning companies, in compliance with Federal regulations, display a “dolphin safe” label on the can.
While acknowledging that canned tuna has made the fish accessible to all, some claim that the canning process has made the fish unpalatable. High-grade tuna packed in olive oil are being imported from Italy and Spain, and increasingly, fresh tuna is appearing in salads such as the Niçoise and Balinese versions that follow.
SAN PEDRO, CALIFORNIA
“I never understood why my mother used the canned tuna. Her house was up on a hill looking out over the harbor and toward some of the best tuna grounds in the world,” said Dominic Urbana. “But she bought oil-packed tuna from the grocery store. She made oil-poached fresh tuna and served it with potatoes and beans. My salad just takes that idea a little further and throws in some French attitude. My daughter makes the same thing, but adds ancho chiles to the fennel and black pepper to give a little more bite. This makes a great summer meal.”
One 12-ounce tuna steak (1-inch thick)
¾–1½ cups olive oil
1 tablespoon fennel seeds
½ tablespoon black peppercorns
Kosher salt
4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 pound small Yukon gold potatoes, scrubbed
½ pound green beans or wax beans, trimmed
1 garlic clove, minced
2 anchovy fillets, rinsed and finely chopped, plus more for garnish if desired
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Freshly ground black pepper
1 large tomato, seeded and chopped
½ cup chopped fresh parsley
⅓ cup black olives, pitted and sliced
1. Place the tuna steak in a small pan over low heat and pour in ¾ cup olive oil, or enough to barely cover the fish. Set aside the remaining olive oil for the dressing. Wrap the fennel seeds and peppercorns in cheesecloth and add to the oil. Cook over very lowest heat until the tuna is nearly cooked through, 12 to 15 minutes. Carefully turn the steak once. Remove from heat, and remove the tuna from the hot oil.
2. Transfer the tuna to a bowl and coat with the olive oil and sliced garlic. Cover and refrigerate for at least 6 hours or overnight.
3. A half hour before serving the salad, remove the tuna from the refrigerator. Scrape off the garlic and discard. Place the potatoes in a large saucepan and cover with cold, salted water. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover, and simmer until tender, about 20 minutes. Drain, cool, and slice.
4. Meanwhile, fill a large bowl with cold water. Bring another large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Add the beans and cook just until they begin to become tender, about 3 minutes. Drain and immediately plunge them into the cold water. When cool, drain them, and if they are large, chop them in half.
5. Place the minced garlic, chopped anchovy, lemon juice, salt, and ground pepper in a bowl and, while whisking steadily, slowly drizzle in the remaining olive oil. Remove 1 tablespoon of the dressing and set aside. Add the potatoes, beans, tomato, parsley, and olives. Toss well, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Divide the vegetables among four plates.
6. Using a sharp knife, slice the tuna on the bias into thin slices. Lay the slices carefully over the vegetables, drizzle with the reserved dressing, garnish with additional anchovy fillet if desired, and serve.
SERVES 4
KEY WEST, FLORIDA
“I met my husband when he was in Jakarta on leave from the military,” said Kahn Pierson. “I didn’t like America so much in Pennsylvania or Georgia or Washington State, but Key West, I love. It is a happy place; it makes me want to cook like my mother. After the children are gone and we both retired, we began to spend the winters in Key West. He fishes and I cook like my mother, outdoors, on our deck in the shade. I always made a lot of the spice paste, because I use it in just about everything and so does anybody who tastes it, so you will like to have the leftovers from this recipe. It will keep for a month in the refrigerator if you cover it good. It is a good marinade for just about any fish and is good on chicken, too.”
FOR THE SPICE PASTE
⅔ cup vegetable oil
15 shallots, coarsely chopped
15 Thai chiles, stemmed, seeded, and coarsely chopped
5 lemon or lime leaves, thinly sliced, or ½ teaspoon grated lime zest
4 stalks lemongrass, white parts only, finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
1½ teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon shrimp paste
¾ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE TUNA
One 1½-pound tuna steak (1-inch thick)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
Thornton Dial, 2005.
1. To make the spice paste: In a food processor, process all of the ingredients together until smooth, or use a mortar and pestle to do the same.
2. To make the tuna: Pat the tuna steak dry with a paper towel, season with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with the lime juice. In a large skillet, heat the oil over high heat. Add the tuna and cook about 10 minutes, turning once, until no longer pink in the center. Transfer the tuna to a plate and let cool to room temperature.
3. Break the tuna in bite-size chunks and transfer to a large bowl. Stir in the spice paste and toss to coat. Cover, and let sit for 30 minutes before serving.
SERVES 6
THEODORE, ALABAMA
In the 1940s, Bill Bayley worked as a steward for the Alcoa Steamship Company on freighters that sailed the West Indies. He came to appreciate the local method of preparing the fresh-caught seafood that comprised the bulk of the crew’s meals. When he left Alcoa in 1947, he opened Bayley’s Restaurant in Theodore with his wife, Ethel, and created a crab salad in the ceviche or pickling style. Over time, West Indies Salad, as Mr. Bayley called it, became iconic in the area, finding its way into the Junior League of Mobile’s cookbook in 1964. Others have tried to improve upon the dish, using olive oil instead of vegetable oil or flavored vinegar in place of cider. But Bill Bayley Jr. says simplicity is the genius of his father’s recipe, which needs no improvement. “They always come back to tell me it’s perfect the way it is.” Serve on a bed of lettuce, if desired.
1 medium-size sweet onion, finely chopped
1 pound fresh lump or claw crabmeat, picked over for shells and cartilage
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup cider vinegar
½ cup ice water
In a large serving bowl, arrange half of the onion in an even layer. Cover with the crabmeat. Spread the remaining onions over the crab and season with salt and pepper. Pour the oil, vinegar, and ice water over the top. Cover and refrigerate for 12 to 24 hours before serving.
SERVES 4
WESTMINSTER, CALIFORNIA
Just before the fall of Saigon in 1975, Vietnamese people began settling in Orange County, California, and today, with more than a quarter million people of Vietnamese descent, “Little Saigon” has the largest concentration of Southeast Asian people in the United States. Gia Ly Quach works in an advertising agency in Los Angeles, and one of the few dishes she’s claimed from her homeland is the family’s chicken salad, a traditional goi-ga (“goi” is a salad made from leftover meat or fish), which is served with a basket of fresh Vietnamese herbs. These are easily had in Orange County, but still difficult to find in other areas of the country. Ms. Quach suggests some possible substitutions:
You can use lemon mint for la tia to, the perilla leaf (called shiso in Japan), which is omnipresent in Southeast Asia. A combination of peppermint and fresh cilantro can take the place of rau ram, a peppery and minty purple leaf. Ngo om, or rice paddy herb, tastes faintly of miner’s lettuce and sorrel. Cilantro can substitute for ngo gai, which is also called saw-leaf or coarse coriander. And in a pinch, vine leaves, lovage leaves, or the Japanese leaf shiso can replace la lot, a mildly acidic and faintly peppery vine leaf that is indispensable to the Vietnamese kitchen.
“If you add a cold goi or two and a couple of different dipping sauces—all of which can be prepared ahead of time—you’ll have a light meal with enough variety to appease the pickiest guests,” says Ms. Quach. “It’s simply a matter of stab and dip, wrap and roll.”
One 3½- to 4-pound whole chicken
1 teaspoon white peppercorns
One 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and quartered
Kosher salt
2 large red onions, halved and very thinly sliced
3 tablespoons fresh lime juice (preferably Key lime)
½ cup chopped fresh mint
Freshly ground black pepper
1. In a large pot, bring the 4 quarts water, the chicken, peppercorns, ginger, and 2 teaspoons salt to a simmer over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low and cook about 45 minutes, until an instant-read thermometer registers 175°F in the thigh and 165°F in the breast.
2. Transfer the chicken to a plate and cool to room temperature. Strain the broth through a fine-mesh strainer, and reserve for another use. Remove the skin and bones from the chicken, and shred the meat into bite-size pieces.
3. In a large bowl, combine the chicken, onions, lime juice, mint, ½ teaspoon salt, and ½ teaspoon pepper. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and serve.
SERVES 4 TO 6
OAK GROVE, MISSOURI
The bucolic estate that Chau Tran Smith called home in her native Vietnam encompassed gardens and century-old fruit trees, all tended by servants. But during the war, the trees on the estate and in the village were considered good cover for Vietcong militants, so the American army cut them down. Later, the mansion was mistakenly bombed, and the family moved into a shack. Ms. Smith escaped the misery when she married an American GI. After the marriage soured, he left her in Independence, Missouri, with two small daughters. She went to work as a seamstress and married Mickey Smith in 1990. The couple bought ten acres in Oak Grove, Missouri, just outside Independence, where they built a five-bedroom home, planted fruit trees and flower and vegetable gardens, and constructed a large pond that they stocked with catfish, bluegills, and frogs.
In Vietnam, Ms. Smith ate beef and watercress salad only on special occasions because watercress didn’t grow in the dry southern part of the country where she lived, and was a pricey commodity. Today it flourishes along the edge of her pond, and this salad is a weekly event.
FOR THE MARINADE
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon sugar
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
⅛ teaspoon baking soda
One 1-pound, 1-inch-thick sirloin steak, thinly sliced crosswise
FOR THE DRESSING
1 cup peanut oil
⅓ cup fresh lime juice or rice vinegar
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
2 teaspoons fish sauce
1½ teaspoons toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon sugar or honey, plus more to taste
FOR THE SALAD
3 Thai bird chiles
2 bunches watercress, heavy stems trimmed
1 firm ripe tomato, cored, halved, and thinly sliced
2 tablespoons peanut or vegetable oil
8 sprigs fresh cilantro
1 package rice paper rounds (optional)
1. To make the marinade: In a large bowl, combine the garlic, fish sauce, sesame oil, sugar, pepper, and baking soda. Add the beef, and stir to coat. Cover and refrigerate for 1 to 24 hours.
2. To make the dressing: Whisk together all the ingredients in a small bowl.
3. To make the salad: Quarter the chiles lengthwise from the pointed end up to the stem, leaving them attached to the stem, so there are four “petals.” Discard the seeds.
4. In a medium bowl, toss the watercress with 2 tablespoons of the dressing. Transfer to a serving platter, and arrange the tomato slices over the watercress.
5. Heat the oil in a large nonstick skillet over high heat. Drain the beef, add to the skillet, and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring frequently, until lightly browned and no longer pink. Arrange the beef over the tomatoes, and lay the cilantro and chiles on the top.
6. If using the rice papers, dip a wrapper in hot water for a few seconds to make it more pliable. Blot it dry on a kitchen towel and roll some salad in it. Pass the remaining dressing separately.
SERVES 4
