Salad Days

By Lisa Turner

Long ago, many years before fat-free blue cheese dressing and

packaged croutons, when humans were merely modest players on the

Earth, animals among animals, we ate leaves. Massive quantities of

them, scattered with the occasional handful of sweet, ripe berries or

tender young nuts and seeds. Leaves, greens, foliage of all sorts,

unadulterated and brilliant in their raw glory, were the natural and

convenient basis of the human diet.

So it came to pass in the days of ancient Babylon that an ancient

but far-sighted foodie doused an earthenware dish of grasses and

herbs with oil and vinegar (at least, that’s the rumor). Thus was the

salad born. It remained popular throughout the ages in its simplest

incarnation of greens and dressing, making its way onto ancient tables

and into classic literature, beginning with Shakespeare’s Antony and

Cleopatra. In that first reference to salads, Cleopatra says “My salad

days, when I was green in judgment, cold in blood,” to explain her

youthful indiscretions with Julius Caesar who, coincidentally or not,

was the namesake for one of our most popular dressings.

These early dishes of greens, oil and vinegar defined salads for

hundreds of years until the French, bless their hearts, invented

mayonnaise more than 200 years ago. A creamier era of dressings was

born, prompting creative twists on salads. For hundreds of years,

people enjoyed robust, meaningful salads with such creative additions

as marigold blossoms, rose petals, celery root, truffles and hard-boiled

eggs.

Then in the 1940s, an enterprising botanist at the USDA

developed iceberg lettuce, which gained such enormous promotion

that 95 percent of the production and consumption of all lettuces was

comprised of iceberg. As if by some unwritten code, salads were

uniformly composed of piles of this uninspired stuff, strewn with pale

tomatoes and listless slices of cucumber. Salad soon became an

afterthought, an obligatory first course at steak houses and consolation

prize for dieters.

In the early ‘80s, fern bars were invented; with them came the

advent of arugula, heirloom tomatoes and artichoke hearts, and the

reinvention of salads. Nutrition became a national sport, and health

food stores sprang up like Starbucks Coffee Shops. Salads were

redefined in the United States, and a new era of salads-as-actual-foods

began.

Which brings me to my point: salads that serve as entrees when

the weather’s too steamy to even consider turning on the stove. If

you’re like me, a bowl of Romaine lettuce won’t cut it for dinner. I like a

salad with substance, something that’s more than a handful of flimsy

leaves peeking demurely from beneath a drizzle of low-fat dressing.

Make a salad that makes a statement, with layers of interesting flavors

and ingredients, and dressings with character.

Start with lively lettuces. Everyone's over mesclun mix, and

Romaine is so ‘90s. Mix it up a little: marry the tangy bite of dandelion

greens or the pale, bitter crunch of frisee with a mild lettuce, like baby

oak leaf, red leaf or bibb. Toss in some Belgian endive or watercress for

texture and a crisp, zingy flavor. Add fresh herbs--a handful of coarsely

chopped basil or cilantro, oregano or thyme leaves—for a clean,

fragrant lift.

Load up your leaves with interesting ingredients, like thinly sliced

fennel, asparagus, pomegranate seeds, artichoke hearts, grated celery

root, raw garden peas or corn kernels, chunks of mango or avocado,

grilled figs, tiny yellow pear tomatoes, wild mushrooms or Moroccan

olives. Try different presentations of salad standards: slice peppers into

ultra-thin strips, cut English cucumbers into half-moons, cut carrots

into confetti. Then toss in water chestnuts, cubes of jicama, raw

almonds or sunflower seeds to add crunch instead of croutons.

A layer of garbanzo, kidney or black beans adds protein, fiber

and substance. Or toss in a few shrimp, chunks of fish, or strips of

organic beef or chicken. Use a small amount of cheese—bleu, goat

cheese, feta, grated asiago or small cubes of manchego—for an

unexpected bite. After your salad is constructed, scatter the top with a

handful of edible flowers, basil leaves or chopped hazelnuts.

Complete your meal with whole-grain bread and organic cheese,

then finish with lemon sorbet or a bowl of fresh raspberries. For

beverages, serve champagne glasses of grapefruit juice and sparkling

water, or a blend of chilled hibiscus tea and white grape juice in frosted

mugs. And toast the happy demise of iceberg lettuce.

[SIDEBAR]

Five Really Good Reasons To Eat Salad

1. They’re high in nutrients. Fruits, veggies and beans contain

antioxidants and phytochemicals that help prevent disease.

2. They’re packed with fiber. A cup of blackberries has 8 grams of

fiber, a cup of beans, about 12 grams. Compare that to a slice of

whole-wheat bread, with a paltry 2 grams.

3. They’re mostly raw. Cooking food destroys enzymes, and

damages many vitamins, minerals and other nutrients; ask your raw

food friends.

4. They’re quick to make. Leaving more time for playing in the sun,

or under the summer stars.

5. They’re light. You’re showing more skin now. Enough said.

[RECIPES]

Mache, Radicchio and Endive Salad with Blackberries and

Mango

Serves 4

Blackberry Grapefruit Dressing:

1/4 cup grapefruit juice

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/4 cup blackberry preserves

Pinch cayenne pepper

Salad:

3 medium heads Belgian endive

1 small head radicchio

1 cup mache leaves

1 cup mango cubes

1/4 cup chopped macadamia nuts

1 cup fresh blackberries

To make dressing: combine grapefruit juice, olive oil, blackberry

preserves and cayenne pepper in a small glass jar with a tight-fitting

lid, and shake vigorously until smooth. Season with sea salt, pepper

and additional cayenne pepper, if desired.

Cut endive heads crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces. In a large salad

bowl, combine endive with mache and arugula. Add mango cubes and

macadamia nuts. Drizzle with just enough dressing to lightly coat

leaves, and toss to mix (store additional dressing in glass jar). Divide

among four salad plates, scatter with fresh blackberries, and serve

immediately.

Spinach and Basil Salad with Sweet Peas and Yellow Tomatoes

Serves 4

Lemon Walnut Vinaigrette

2 tablespoons walnut oil

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon white wine vinegar

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

1 tablespoon minced toasted walnuts

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

Salad:

1 cup fresh basil leaves, coarsely chopped

1 cup baby arugula leaves

1 cup baby spinach leaves

1 cup dandelion greens

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

1 cup fresh garden peas, lightly cooked and chilled

1 cup yellow pear tomatoes

To make dressing: combine walnut oil, olive oil, vinegar, lemon

juice, walnuts and mustard in a small glass jar with a tight-fitting lid,

and shake vigorously until emulsified. Season with sea salt and pepper.

In a large salad bowl, combine basil, arugula and spinach; toss to

mix. Add walnuts. Drizzle with just enough dressing to lightly coat

leaves, and toss to mix (store additional dressing in glass jar). Add

tomatoes and peas, and toss gently. Divide salad among four individual

plates and serve immediately.