Salad Days and Ways for Dressing Them
My artist-uncle spent the greatest part of his Bohemian existence in France, returning to his native city for rare but eagerly awaited visits, perhaps to do a family portrait but most certainly to tell the world, with gestures, how much better everything was arranged “over there.”
When my turn came to be transferred to canvas I sat motionless by the hour, afraid to break the spell of his youthful and delightfully bawdy memories of Quatz’ Arts balls and Parisian life in the late 1890s. Visiting him there later, the studio of his more settled years turned out to be just a large untidy loft, disappointingly empty of beautiful undraped women, but a thrilling spot to eat lunch. I trotted excitedly beside Uncle Charlie while he bargained in slangy French for more varieties of lettuce and greens than I’d ever known existed, carried the yard-long still warm bread and pat of sweet butter, and helped choose the ripe cheese and light pastries. Then, as tea brewed over whistling gas, I set the model’s throne with peasant pottery and steel knives and forks, while he made the salad, and after its first taste no longer wondered at the picturesque epithets that had garnished his demands for real olive oil, a pepper grinder and wine vinegar back in my own home. Although his measurements for dressing were strictly rule of thumb, he was firm that the only way to get the correct whisper of garlic was to rub a cut clove of it over a small piece of dry crust or toast and then break the bread into bits in the salad bowl. Heavy Spanish olive oil was his preference and he produced his own WINE VINEGAR by leaving an opened bottle of red or white wine to sour on a sunny window sill, recorking it after it became tart enough to please him, and my neat soul was at first outraged by his casual wipe of the unwashed wooden bowl after we had finished our salad.
With these hints, get out a salad bowl with its fork and spoon and start an artistic career of your own. Experiment with combinations of lettuces and herbs, and equip a tray with different brands and bottles of oil and flavored vinegar, not forgetting a castor of assorted salts and a pepper grinder. Olive oil must be bought, but FLAVORED VINEGAR can be made in your own kitchen with no more effort than was expended by Uncle Charlie, a notoriously lazy creature. Pour heated wine or cider vinegar over contents of a jar previously loosely filled with the bruised fresh herb of your choice, leaving it tightly sealed for 10 days or until the desired flavor is achieved. Then strain. Two or three tablespoons of dried herbs per quart of vinegar will have the same result. Tarragon is the classic for this but you’ll soon want to go on to basil, celery, lemon, thyme and nasturtium. Not only explore the shops but the roadside for fillings for your bowl and you’ll find that peppery cress, sour grass, or wild sorrel, and that curse of a smooth lawn, the dandelion’s leaves, add to its flavor and texture. Before you realize, you’ll have your own determined opinion on the correct measurements and ingredients of a delicious individual FRENCH DRESSING, but good beginning proportions are ¼ cup of vinegar, ½ teaspoon of dry mustard, 1 teaspoon of salt, ⅛ teaspoon of pepper, 1 teaspoon of paprika, mixed with ¾ cup of olive oil. Add a tablespoon of tomato catsup and/or a bit of grated onion once in a while as a welcome surprise, and for a real change make SOUR CREAM DRESSING with ¾ cup of sour cream in place of the olive oil. This is particularly good over sliced cucumbers flecked with the green of minced chives.
CREOLE DRESSING is best made beforehand and is the perfect teammate for the beautiful gold and white Belgian endive. Add ½ cup each of tomato catsup and finely chopped watercress to 1 cup of french dressing (above).
ROQUEFORT DRESSING needs ⅛ pound of the cheese, at least, added to 1 cup of French dressing (above), and CHEDDAR DRESSING—made in the same proportions—calls for that cheese to be well aged.
A quick VINAIGRETTE DRESSING is ½ cup of the red tomato pickle (page 128) added to 1 cup of French dressing (above).
A more elaborate VINAIGRETTE DRESSING NUMBER 2 is ⅛ cup of tarragon vinegar, ½ cup of cider or wine vinegar, 1 teaspoon of dry mustard, 2 tablespoons of chopped chives, ½ teaspoon of finely chopped onion, ½ cup of chopped peeled tomato, 1 tablespoon of chopped celery and the same of green pepper. Add salt, pepper, paprika, and a few grains of cayenne, and mix everything well with ½ cup of olive oil. Either of these two are delicious on asparagus and give a useful tang to a salad made of cold cooked string beans.
My father loved any salad and was so fond of raw tomatoes that he ate them for breakfast in an age where still lingered a trace of the old fear of the red “love apples.” Many a time have I seen him make his summer lunch a big ice-cold dish of thinly sliced tomatoes and Bermuda onion rings, literally mopping the saucer with a thick crust of bread to get up any French dressing that had escaped. He liked cucumbers and celery in this, too, and long before our vitamin-conscious age, maintained that cucumbers were best without the usual preliminary soaking in ice water, but chilled and sliced paper thin unskinned. Modern dietitians would also approve of the simple and delicious CELERY COLE SLAW that he always demanded with any fowl. For four or six, add 2 teaspoons of ground dry mustard to 1 cup of French dressing (page 100) and pour it over 3 cups of diced crisp celery. Serve it well chilled in saucers as Father liked it, and watch the dunking.
His cole slaw never was touched with mayonnaise but must always have over it my grandmother’s BOILED DRESSING. Beat together ¾ cup of cider vinegar, ¾ cup of rich milk, the yolks of 2 eggs, 1 teaspoon each of dry mustard and salt, and 1 tablespoon of sugar. Cook in the top of a double boiler over boiling water until it starts to thicken, stirring constantly. Add the beaten whites of 2 eggs and 2 tablespoons of cooking oil, remove from the fire and beat until well mixed.
BOILED DRESSING NUMBER 2 is just as old a recipe, good, too, and perhaps a little easier. Bring to a boil 6 tablespoons of butter or cooking oil, 6 tablespoons of sweet or sour cream, 1 teaspoon each of salt and dry mustard, 2 teaspoons of sugar, and ¾ cup of cider vinegar. Remove from the fire and stir slowly over 3 whole eggs that have been beaten until frothy. Return to a double boiler and beat hard over hot water until just thick—about 5 minutes.
Both of these recipes for dressing should be cooled a little before pouring over the 4 cups of shredded cabbage that will make COLE SLAW for four or six. 1 cup of coarsely grated carrots will add an up-to-date color and flavor to the cabbage, but for a real old-time taste and appearance stir in 2 tablespoons of celery seed after mixing the cole slaw.
Boiled dressing is good, too, on tomatoes or plain lettuce, but to still the occasional yearning for MAYONNAISE make it easily and quickly this way! Beat the yolks of 2 eggs, 2 tablespoons of lemon juice or vinegar, 1 teaspoon each of salt and dry mustard, and a few grains of cayenne in a chilled bowl. Add 2 cups of olive oil or salad oil, starting to drip it in slowly and stirring constantly. This is a basic recipe—add more lemon juice or mustard to your own taste or perhaps a cup of sour cream after the dressing is made.
RUSSIAN DRESSING is mayonnaise (above) or boiled dressing (above) added to an equal amount of chili sauce or tomato catsup, and improves the sometimes dull flavor of winter iceberg lettuce.
The sticky heaps of jellied marshmallows and tinted fruit that appear on too many tables should be shudderingly avoided along with their sickeningly sweet mayonnaise but my POTATO SALAD is something quite different. Chop 4 slices of bacon, brown, and reserve the grease. Drain the bacon and mix with 3 cups of diced cold boiled potatoes. Heat 3 tablespoons of the bacon grease, add 4 tablespoons of chopped chives—or 1 tablespoon of chopped onion—1 tablespoon of parsley, an optional tablespoon of chopped fresh dill, 1 teaspoon of salt, ¼ teaspoon of black pepper, and ½ cup of vinegar. Pour this while still hot over the potatoes, cover and chill them, overnight if you wish, and when ready to serve mix ½ cup of mayonnaise with the potatoes and serve on lettuce garnished with more mayonnaise and perhaps stuffed or sliced hard-boiled eggs, quartered tomatoes, and olives. This, of course, is the perfect companion for slices of cold smoked ham and dill pickles.
For an equally good salad with cold pork, veal, or chicken, serve WALDORF SALAD. Make this of 2 cups of diced very sour apples with an equal quantity of chopped celery mixed with 2 cups of tart mayonnaise. Add ½ cup of broken nut meats before serving on lettuce and trim with whole halves of nuts.
A ring of tomato jelly filled with celery or cabbage cole slaw looks and tastes delicious. A quick method for the jelly is on page 161, but when time is no object make TOMATO JELLY NUMBER 2. Chop ¼ cup of onions and ½ small clove of garlic. Add to 3½ cups of tomato juice or 4 cups of canned or peeled chopped whole ones. Bring to a boil, add 1 small piece of bay leaf, 1 clove and a few peppercorns, 1 teaspoon of salt, and a few grains of cayenne. Simmer for 20 or 30 minutes, strain, and thoroughly dissolve in the hot liquid 2 tablespoons of gelatine. Pour into a very lightly greased mould. Chill and place in the refrigerator 2 or 3 hours until firm.
My débutante activities weren’t distinguished by the hectic rush that follows the modern “coming out.” Teas then were attended mostly by white-gloved ancients whose approval of the bud’s behavior really mattered, and having a well-filled dance card and—oh, joy!—“splitting your waltzes” were the height of popularity. Hearty food was served at even the smallest, most informal affair. When I read of the simple scrambled-egg-and-sausage suppers at balls today, my mind goes back to plates heaped with scalloped oysters, Virginia ham, and chicken salad.
Last winter an elderly, crotchety cousin decided to celebrate his birthday with a family party. The abrupt invitation on the phone was typically cheerless: “I’ll be seventy on Saturday. Probably my last birthday. Thought I’d give a supper with decent food. Chicken salad and oysters. Don’t come if you don’t like ’em!”
The menu he promised was certainly nostalgic and more than a little lacking in vitamins, but so many of his guests enjoyed second and even third helpings, that by the end of the evening not a single family argument had taken place and Cousin Joseph himself was in a better humor than any of us ever remembered.
Here is how he had ordered the CHICKEN SALAD made. For four or six: Cover a 5-pound (or a little less) cut-up stewing chicken with water, add 1 small sliced onion, a sprig of parsley and ½ cup of chopped celery leaves. Bring to a boil and simmer until the bird is tender, adding 1 tablespoon of salt when half done and allowing the meat to cool in the water in which it was cooked. Drain the chicken thoroughly and cut it into 1-inch dice. Once more no modern “mincing” please, and be sure to remove every bit of skin and gristle. There should be about 3¼ cups of the meat. Chop l¼ cups of tender inside stalks of celery, add ½ teaspoon of salt and toss it lightly with the cut-up chicken before putting it in the refrigerator to become thoroughly chilled. Mix 1 cup of mayonnaise (page 102) with an equal amount of boiled dressing (page 102), and mix half of this with the chicken and celery. When ready to serve, turn this out on an ice-cold platter that has first been lined with crisp lettuce and pour over it the balance of the dressing. Decorate the platter with 3 sliced hard-boiled eggs and ½ cup of sliced stuffed olives. Scatter an optional ¼ cup of capers over all.
CRAB SALAD is made the same way using 1 pound of cooked crab meat instead of the chicken; and TOMATO SURPRISE is a hollowed tomato resting on a few frilly leaves of lettuce and filled with either chicken or crab salad. Just who is “surprised” by this I’ve never understood, certainly not the diners, but it’s a grand start for a summer lunch, as is AVOCADO SURPRISE with the halved and seeded pear filled with crab salad.
One “broke,” but enjoyable, summer we shared a cottage with friends whose children were the same age as our own, and July and August resembled a continuous college house party. The number of guests present was always doubtful until the last late breakfaster had repaired to the beach and even then I was never sure how many more would drift back to raid the icebox at lunchtime. Fortunately a handy boardwalk hot-dog stand took some of the edge off their youthful appetites, but salad, sandwiches, and milk always seemed to be in demand about two o’clock. I had forgotten the most enjoyed pièce de résistance until I recently encountered that summer’s permanent guest, now a sedate (or so he thinks) married stockbroker. He greeted me with, “Would you please tell my wife how you made that good Slop Salad, she says she has never heard of it.” Hardly to be wondered at either, for the name given it by its enthusiastic eaters doesn’t sound very inviting, and probably SALAD À LA RUSSE would appeal much more. Call it what you will, this is it: For four or six, take 3 cups of cooked string beans, 1 cup of skinned chopped tomatoes, ½ cup of chopped celery, and 1 Bermuda onion cut in thin rings. Add 1 cup, or a little more if you have it, of diced cooked meat or fish and toss everything together in a big bowl with 1 cup of shredded lettuce and 2 cups of French dressing (page 100). Not a difficult recipe, is it, and needless to say its ingredients can be pleasantly controlled by the leftovers in your icebox. Served in deep saucers and accompanied by cheese sandwiches that my “boarders” made for themselves, it disappeared by the gallon and I could watch the crowd take off for their afternoon soaking secure in the knowledge that my houseful had had a filling, balanced meal.
Of course the type of salad that is to be served at any meal depends mainly on the courses that are to precede or follow it, but any salad is the better for having cheese passed at the same time. Toasted crackers or warm French bread as Uncle Charlie liked it should always go along too.
The Cheese Pâté (page 206) is just as good with salad as it is as an appetizer. A well-aged bit of “rat trap” never has to be apologized for either, and this department can always stand experimental purchases in a well-stocked delicatessen, for Uncle Charlie’s world of models and painters is no more interested in a new art technique than the even larger world of appreciative diners is in new touches to add to that most enjoyable of foods—les salades.
