Equal Parts

Of all the salads I love in the world — pasta, quinoa, kale, tuna, caesar, cole slaw, tabbouleh, greek, fruit, ginger, egg, essentially all salads — my very favorite is garden salad. And not just the classic lettuce, tomato, cucumber, carrot, crouton, ranch variety — though that is a favorite of mine. The idea of garden salad is far broader and more complex than that; it is an opportunity to prepare, consume, and highlight all types of vegetables, usually raw, at their finest. At its best, garden salad is a showcase of the season that gives truth to the clichés eat local and simple is best.

The garden salads I want to eat are composed of just a handful of ingredients and a creative vinaigrette. At restaurants I almost always start with the simplest offering on the menu, and it is often my favorite part of the meal. A first course should be light, fresh, and enticing to build anticipation of the entrée to come. I believe a stellar garden salad expresses this hope better than most appetizers.

At Margaux, where we recently celebrated our first wedding anniversary, I started my meal with endive spears tossed in a white wine balsamic and stacked like a jenga tower, with roquefort crumbles and toasted walnuts scattered across the plate. It was elegant but uncomplicated, like a Parisian woman in a trench coat and scarf walking along the Seine. One summer at Table 5, where we had our first date and revisit often, I ordered a salad of thinly sliced cucumbers, lightly dressed and sprinkled with black and white sesame seeds. That’s it, and it was as refreshing as chilled watermelon or a popsicle or a bucket of champagne. I like to start with the panzanella salad at Cantoro. It’s mostly just halved cherry tomatoes and sliced red onion tossed with rustic croutons and good olive oil, and it precedes the branzino quite nicely.

You would think this love of garden salads translates to my home cooking, but it’s complicated. As a diner I did not chop vegetables in the prep kitchens at Margaux, Table 5, and Cantoro, nor did I measure, whisk, emulsify, and season the vinaigrettes. Delicate greens wilt quickly, and I rely on leftovers for many weeknight dinners, so daily salads become a slow and repetitive process. It’s all a bit fussy, and I often give in to the option of tossing greens in a blender and making a smoothie.

I thought this would change when we joined a CSA two years ago. A constant supply of fresh, local vegetables would surely encourage me to express my true garden salad dreams, I thought. How could I not make one every night? Then an ant walked out of my first attempt, and the following week I dressed the greens in a far too acidic vinaigrette that had me coughing for an hour, so I gave up on the idea of a happy farm-to-table relationship.

But, with patience and practice, trial and error, resilience and grit, I recovered, enough so to create a homemade garden salad guideline. It’s not as hard as I thought!

Start with greens. I buy baby spinach or arugula from the grocery store, but receive many other varieties from the farm (mustard greens, head lettuce, mesclun, pea shoots). Save kale and chard for heartier salads or adding to scrambled eggs.
Wash your greens. A good salad spinner can do all of this work for you.
Gently chop your greens. I prefer bite-size lettuces on my plate instead of bringing a knife to my finished salad.
Add a small amount of other fresh produce. Literally two radishes or one celery stalk, sliced thin. Or three cherry tomatoes, halved. An apple cut into matchsticks. What do you already have in your kitchen? Pick just one or two, and use that.
Make a simple vinaigrette. I was intimidated by this step for a long time, but the key is to practice again and again to become familiar with what you like, and then to be comfortable experimenting with variations. (See recipe and notes below.)
Lightly dress everything. I like to use tongs to gently toss together the greens, vegetables, and vinaigrette.
Add some crunch. A nut, seed, or crouton is nice, but just one and just a little.
Possibly add cheese. Such as grated parmesan or crumbled feta or blue cheese.
Possibly add an herb. If you have dill, parsley, chives, or basil on hand, chop and sprinkle on top.
Your salad is done. Enjoy! At home I make garden salads for a side dish, instead of a first course. Last week’s version included baby spinach, pea shoots, celery and turnips, tossed with a fig balsamic vinaigrette, with crumbled feta and muscovado sunflower seeds. (See recipe below.)
Rules are meant to be broken. I love a salad that has a radish or cucumber as its base, instead of greens. I also love an entrée salad, which vastly expands the size and ingredient list: “It’s like a salad, but bigger, with lots of stuff in it,” as Elaine Benes says. Finally, I believe in cooking for enjoyment and not just efficiency, so when the mood strikes please hand-wash the tenderest, most dirt-covered greens, seek out the mandolin from its back cupboard hiding spot, mix a chef-y dressing that calls for a resting period, and bake a special loaf of parmesan garlic bread just so it can be left to dry and re-toasted as croutons.

So that’s my philosophy on garden salads, what’s yours? I’m sure everybody has one.

EVERYDAY VINAIGRETTE

Vinaigrette is oil + vinegar + emulsifier, and is all about the ratios. I rarely measure, and through repetition have become comfortable estimating by sight. What follows is a very basic recipe, which I would use to dress 1-2 side salads. It is also entirely adaptable: add minced garlic, chopped shallot, dried herbs such as oregano, or spices such as sumac or fennel, swap the vinegar for a citrus juice, add more honey or mustard for a thicker dressing, make it creamy with mayonnaise or sour cream or yogurt or heavy cream. I like to switch up the type of vinegar I use: red wine or white wine, of course, though I also stock flavored varieties from my favorite store, Fustini’s — I am currently working through a Michigan Apple Balsamic and a Fig Balsamic. The possibilities are endless.

You’ll need:
1/4 tsp honey
1/4 tsp dijon mustard
1-1/2 tbsp white wine vinegar
2 tbsp olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Whisk all together in a medium bowl.

MUSCOVADO SUNFLOWER SEEDS, from Heidi Swanson

I’ve made this recipe a million times, and it comes from my first ever favorite cookbook, Super Natural Every Day. These seeds are excellent as a snack, but I love them more for a sweet, citrus-y crunch atop a salad.

You’ll need:
1 cup sunflower seeds
1 tbsp muscovado sugar
1 tsp lemon zest
Salt to taste

Toast the sunflower seeds in a skillet over medium-high heat until aromatic and slightly golden. Meanwhile, in a small bowl mix together the sugar, lemon zest, and a pinch of salt. Then, when the sunflower seeds are toasted, add the sugar mixture to the skillet and stir until it melts and coats the seeds, about one minute. Transfer immediately to a plate or cutting board to cool.