Grapes across America

In the last six months, just about every salad we've made includes grapes. We keep a steady supply of seedless grapes on hand, and these gems have earned a place of prominence in our salads.  We slice them down the middle and the interior exposure collects and intensifies flavors from the olive oil, balsamic vinegar, the spices, and sea salt.    

There are several varieties of seedless grapes grown in North America, and interestingly, grapes can be crimson, black, dark blue (seriously?), green, yellow, and pink in color.  The USA is the eighth largest grape producer in the world, and because of the grape's natural hardiness, they are grown in numerous areas across North America. Although we've yet to add the dark-blue varietal to our salads, it's good to know that there's an exciting flavor (and color) frontier in the grape world that we haven't experienced yet.

Zest

Here's an idea.  Suppose you're in a groove, making the same basic salad but you're looking for something a little different.  You're thinking that you've got a good thing going, but you want to make a few adjustments to get that salad up on its feet.  Well, one way to goose up a salad is to add some lemon zest.  

Zest is the oil-rich outer rind of the lemon but only the portion with color, not the white pith. It is scraped off with a paring knife or a zester, and it imparts a very intense lemon/citrus flavor to the your salad.  Interestingly, it works with many salad combinations, and you can use it as sparingly or as liberally as you want to provide that extra bit of flavor.  You can buy dried zest, but zesting a lemon is really fun, it gives you a good excuse to buy a zester, and you have a bunch of bald lemons to use for other purposes. 

Sea salt again

The other day, we were sitting around Mike and Liz's table talking about horses, the economy, wine, and of course food, when the conversation turned serious. As the salad bowl was passed from hand to hand, our friend Don stated in a resolute voice, "Hey, I live alone, I could put anything I want in my salad!" He explained further that his salads don't by definition include greens.  Sometimes, he continued, he simply cuts up some carrots, beets, and avocado, and tosses it with sea salt.  That's one of his favorites.

The word "salad" is derived from the old French "salade," which we can trace to the Vulgar Latin "salata,"  which is translated as "to salt." Yes indeed, Don is absolutely right.  The idea of food "having been salted" was the idea behind the salad. Salt is the root of many of our favorite foods, including salsa and sausage, in which their Latin references to salt can easily be seen. Salsa is derived from "salsus," which translates to "salted," and Sausage is derived from "salsicius," which means "to prepare by salting."

Certainly our notion of a salad is broad enough to encompass anything we can think of, but always, it should include a dash of salt.

Ode to the sea

The ingredients that we use for any given salad can vary widely. We can be just as happy eating a salad in which the main ingredient is cucumber, or pineapple, or mandarin oranges. We've added pears, apple slices, or peppers to these salads, and they've all turned out well. The reaon for this is that these salads have one thing in common:  Sea Salt and Herbs.

There's something about a good sea salt and herb combination that brings out the very best in every other ingredient in a salad. We've been using the Sea Salt and Herb bundles from O & Co., especially the Sea Salt Mix for Pasta and Salads, which includes dried sea salt, marjoram, tomato flakes, chives, and onions.  We often supplement the herb list with our own oregano, basil, and always an ample serving of fresh ground pepper.

We'll talk more about O & Co. in later posts on this blog, but regardless of where you get your sea salt, it is an essential ingredient in any salad. 

On any given Sunday...

In the sports world, the phrase "on any given Sunday..." implies that the outcome of the game might -- and often does -- turn out considerably different than what you expect.  Anything can happen. On paper, one team might have an overwhelming edge, or the home field advantage, but truly, you never know who will show up, who's got the drive or the desire to win until the game is played. The world is not so predictable that you can just phone it in. The Sunday salad has all characteristics of a late-season football game played in the rain, that turns to snow, then settles on sleet and ice pellets in a swirling wind. Who's going to win?  Hey, it's anyone's guess.

Suppose that on Friday evening, you stayed a few extra hours at happy hour.  On Saturday, you were surprised to find that there were several movies playing that you wanted to see, and you took in a double feature. You didn't get to the store to replenish your salad supplies. When you amble into the kitchen to build the Sunday salad, suddenly you've become TV's Macgyver, trying to build a salad with a rubber band, a straw, some leftover greens, assorted fruit, and a hard-boiled egg.  

Most of the time, these are the very conditions that call for salad greatness.  You have to dig deep, figuring out how to use what you have to make a salad that just might become the next surprisingly great salad of your life. The red Bartlett pear and bell pepper salad we had this past Sunday was just such a revelation. Simple, colorful, flavorful, and a base worth building on...

The big payoff...

If you read this blog regularly, you might get the idea that we eat nothing but leafy greens, exotic fruit and vegetables, and press our own garden-grown olives into world-class olive oil. This is not really the case. A salad can be the first course that represents the beginning of a great meal.  It can also be the light fare that serves as the precursor to a great dessert. At times, the salad is a means to an end; it's a fantastic journey that leads to a much-deserved reward. For us, it is often the prelude to chocolate.

A few years ago, we discovered Paul Newman's Sweet Dark chocolate. We were never huge fans of dark chocolate, but Newman's chocolate, like his acting, was smooth, wonderful, and never bitter or over-the-top. At first, Newman's sweet dark chocolate was the perfect compliment to a glass of red wine after dinner, but eventually, we found ourselves finishing every meal (except the occasional early breakfast) with a square or two of chocolate. Newman opened the door to other dark chocolates for us, although we are still a little hesitant about saying "yes" to the bitter, heavy cocoa-laden blends.  

There is such a wide range of chocolate out there that we suggest you make a project out of it, just like the pursuit of building the perfect salad. Next time you're at the grocery or your favorite chocolatier, buy several types of chocolate and have a tasting, as if you're enjoying a flight of expensive Bordeaux wines. Yes, you should savor and enjoy your salads, but it's great to finish it with something that you absolutely love to eat, that satisfies your craving for the sweet and the rich. If you haven't tried Newman's sweet dark chocolate after a good salad, we highly recommend it...

Tomatoes with flavor

Every year, around the marking of the vernal equinox, my friend Mike slathers on his SPF 110 and digs up his yard to plant tomatoes.  This is not the trivial undertaking of a casual hobbyist or the relaxing pursuit of a gentleman farmer. No sir. Raising tomatoes in Austin, Texas is all-out warfare against a relentless sun, against bleached soil that hasn't seen rain in months, and against the unwavering heat. It takes a serious man and a hearty tomato pedigree to yield edible results. 

We've had the good fortune of tending to Mike's garden when he takes his family on vacation, and the reward for weeding and irrigating is everything we can pick. This is a rare treat, given that we live in an era of tasteless tomatoes. Mike's yield lasts for a few weeks.  Then, when the days of living on garden-fresh tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, and fresh cracked pepper give way to the desperate search for a tomato with flavor, where does one go to add the real thing to a salad. We have found that the only store-bought tomato that delivers any semblance of flavor is the cherry tomato.  While these little guys are no substitute for a fresh-picked tomato from the garden, still warm from the heat of the afternoon, it's the best we've got.