Dressing Up

Matching the right dressing to the greens.

Welcome to the Art of Growing Food newsletter. I write about artful growing tips for cooks who love to garden. You are receiving this newsletter because you are a free or paid subscriber. Thank you! - Ellen Ecker Ogden

Hello Everyone.

One summer years ago, my daughter Molly, was home from college and determined to learn how to cook. After two years of dining room food and microwave noodles, real food suddenly had appeal. We started with the basics: salad dressing. It seemed simple enough, yet dressing can be complex.

I serve a green salad for dinner every night, tossed in a wooden salad bowl with a light oil and vinegar vinaigrette. My recipe follows the classic proportions: 4 parts oil to 1 part vinegar, a press of garlic, and a teaspoon of Dijon mustard. But after that, the recipe gets loose, depending on the type of lettuce and the piquancy of the greens.

There was a time when I made lots of variations, storing each in a small mason jar in the refrigerator. Now, I make it fresh every time, right in the bowl.

If the leaves are soft and buttery, I'll substitute lemon for the vinegar and a bit of sesame tahini. A tough romaine deserves a bold balsamic vinegar and a teaspoon of horseradish. Spicy mixed salad greens are sweetened with a dab of smoked maple syrup, while bitter greens are tamed with a buttermilk dressing. The key is to pay attention to how the greens taste before they are dressed, and having a repertoire of options.

But trying to teach these subtle differences, learned from years of practice and experimentation, is not what Molly had in mind. "Just tell me how to make dressing," she says, somewhat impatient. Her mother, the cooking teacher, needs to back off with the lesson and let her learn by doing it herself.

I settle onto the kitchen stool, where she usually sits, and watch as she measures out the oil and vinegar into the salad bowl.

My mother taught me the same way, by measuring and tasting. But perhaps it was easier back in the 60s when the choice between iceberg or Boston bibb reduced the options for the type of dressing. We had two homemade dressings; one was known as Italian, made in a glass bottle with pre-measured lines that made it easy to measure olive oil and vinegar, with an envelope of spices to pour into the bottle. With the cap attached, a vigorous shaking followed, and voila!

The other was a dressing that we dubbed "Henry's Dressing", a garlicky concoction made by a family friend, whose breath always carried the signature of his product. Henry made large batches in gallon-sized Gallo wine jugs, then filled .075 liter wine bottles to give away as gifts. It was a recipe derived from Greek seasonings blended with an overdose of garlic that would "gestate", his term for allowing the full flavor of the ingredients to blend for a spell. A bold change from the bland Italian mix, but it always dominated the greens.

Preparing salad greens, I explain to Molly, as she removes a plastic bag with pre-washed mixed greens from the refrigerator, is like conditioning flowers. If you can keep the stems and leaves full of moisture, and then quickly cool, they will stay crisp and hardy. Earlier in the day, I had clipped the fresh greens, a mixture of arugula, chervil, and young mustard greens along with looseleaf lettuce of varying colors. The greens were immersed in a basin of cool water, spun dry, and wrapped in absorbent towels before placing them in the refrigerator. I will let her do this step next time, but I decided to keep it easy in this first class.

My grandmother made her salad dressing, too, but was from a generation that did not enjoy a strong blast of garlic. Rather than add garlic directly to the dressing, she would make a paste by crushing a garlic clove into a small bit of cream or milk to extract the essence of the garlic. She would then strain this concoction and add it to her vinaigrette. She was a stickler for extra virgin olive oil long before it became popular. It was the health properties she was after, the cold pressing of the olives offered benefits beyond flavor. She lived well into her 90's, in part because she ate well, and perhaps was due to her salad dressing.

I like to think that families who make homemade dressings will continue to carry on this tradition and keep bottled dressing at bay. Molly has now whisked together the oil and vinegar, I suggest a dash of Dijon mustard, and a scant teaspoon of maple syrup. "Now taste it," I tell her. Her face squints, her lips gently smack, and her eyes get that momentary faraway look that says, " Don't disturb me, I'm thinking." 

Teaching my daughter how to make salad dressing is like teaching someone to write. I am sharing my understanding of the basics, but then she needs to decide what ultimately tastes good to her. While my daughter is learning to cook, I am grasping the fine balance between keeping her interested and getting the food on the table. All I can hope for is that this simple lesson in making salad dressing will leave a lasting impression, even after the summer is over. At least it’s a good place to start.

From my garden to yours,

Ellen O.

Ellen Ecker Ogden is a Vermont-based food and garden writer, and author of five books on garden designs with recipes. She is at work writing a new book about greens. Web links at LinkTree | Follow her on Instagram