If one is to look at the fast-paced evolution of food in the United States in the last quarter century, there is perhaps no greater sign of progress than in the development of the salad.
Not long ago, serving a salad in most parts of the country meant cutting a wedge from a head of iceberg lettuce, putting in on a plate with a slice of tomato, and splashing it with creamy ranch or orange-tinted "French" dressing.
But then, as the world became smaller and the forces of "haute cuisine" pushed full force into the New World, salads that sang—and literally defined the word "fresh"—became increasingly common. All sorts of tasty and colorful ingredients started appearing on our plates—not just elegant baby greens, but also fruits, nuts, exotic vegetables, pungent cheeses and even a few edible flowers.
Some might say the evolution—or revolution, perhaps—went too far, went over the top. After all, in place of iceberg with Thousand Island we sometimes got fancy mixed greens with endive, oranges, pecans, heaps of feta cheese and a heavy-duty raspberry vinaigrette. With all those fun ingredients at hand, cooks sometimes struggled to find an attractive balance of tastes.
Enter the 21st century and the re-emergence of the basic green salad, but with a twist—the inclusion of a variety of lettuces that are so fresh and delicately flavorful they barely need a dressing. In many restaurants and home kitchens, we Americans had finally discovered the true essence of the salad, the foundation from which all the best modern variations were derived: the freshest greens with a thin coating of basic vinaigrette dressing.
In France, the "salade verte" is a staple of many regions. Many restaurants and households—those not striving for "nouvelle (new) cuisine"—serve for each table to share a large glass bowl of fresh greens tossed with vinaigrette and a few wedges of ripe tomato.
The "salade verte" has seen its own evolution over time, but the basic recipe remains the same. Last month, I encountered one of the best versions I've ever had: freshly picked baby Bibb lettuce—stacked into a neat cylinder—with a delicate vinaigrette and a side of warm goat cheese. There was no competition on the plate—no fancy fruits or nuts, no overbearing herbs, just the sweet, mild taste of the lettuce marked with the delicate acidity of the dressing.
Fortunately, fresh lettuces are abundant in central Idaho. The best are locally grown, but summer lettuces brought in from out of state can also be excellent. Look for leaves that are firm, not bruised or limp, and exhibit vibrant color.
To add flavor, toss in some radicchio, endive or watercress. And, while a good, basic salad is often truly green, mixed greens with hues of red and yellow are also perfect for a simple summer side plate.
As for the dressing, basic vinaigrette has held its place in the kitchen for so long for good reason: It complements the greens, but in a subtle fashion that allows their flavors shine through. Once one has tried a good, homemade vinaigrette, he or she will only reluctantly reach for a bottle of creamy ranch.
In addition, consider this: Many commercial dressings contain high-fructose corn syrup, an ingredient that can easily counter the benefits of eating a healthy portion of greens. Research has indicated that high-fructose corn syrup inhibits secretion of the hormone that tells us we're full, and also fails to slow secretion of another hormone that tells our brains we're hungry. Dressings with the syrup can, it seems, send our bodies a message that we're still hungry, even if we shouldn't be.
Classic Vinaigrette
2 Tbsp. quality white wine or tarragon vinegar
2 tsp. Dijon mustard
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
½ cup (or slightly less) extra virgin olive oil
Place the vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper in a bowl and whisk together. Slowly add the oil, whisking constantly until the dressing is emulsified (creamy). Tip: To make a lighter vinaigrette, whisk in 2 teaspoons of boiling water after the dressing has emulsified. Makes approximately ½ cup.
