Salads Are Stories We Tell Ourselves
Recipes: Salad Sandwiches with Herbed Cream Cheese and Watermelon and Radish Salad with Feta and a Tomato Vinaigrette
FOR THE MOST PART, at least when it comes to eating, I don’t like to claim to be something I’m not. It’s less because I have a strong moral code that I live by and more that I’m afraid I’ll get caught being a hypocrite. This probably explains why I go around telling people (who didn’t ask) that I’m trying not to eat sugar rather than I’m not eating sugar right now or, even more outlandish, that I don’t eat sugar.
Because the truth is all three options look exactly like me eating sugar. (And if you’re pro-sugar, I’m sorry. It makes me feel terrible and I have serious reasons.)
But I don’t mind all that much when other people sow self-deception—I’m fascinated by humankind’s prowess at mental gymnastics! Years ago, I had a friend who said to her husband, casually, “You’re going to have to stop calling yourself a vegetarian if you keep eating animals.” I’m not sure if he ever stopped, or what his ethos was, or if he still sees himself as a vegetarian. But I loved my friend’s nonjudgmental attitude about it. If he wants to call himself a vegetarian, and it means something to him, why not consider it aspirational?
If your delusions aren’t hurting anyone and might in fact be setting you on the path to eating-habit goals that make you feel good—I say go for it. Some of us are just out here trying to figure out what works best for us. And I suppose these are the stories we tell ourselves in order to eat what we want, to paraphrase Joan Didion.
I do, however, draw the line when other people’s firmest fallacies are about salad, mainly because they are often negative in a way that hurts salad and possibly the solar system—even the entire universe. It hasn’t been measured yet. And before we go any further, let me say one more time, for the people who just got here: The Department of Salad is not a diet site; how you use food is your own business. We are just here because we love to inspire you and share the love, not bring you down, honey child.
I did not dedicate my remaining years on this planet to salad just to stand by while people refer to it as rabbit food or “dietetic” or, worse, imply that all salads are a pile of lettuce with a few lame accoutrements, as in a very recent article in one of our major American newspapers, which are supposed to produce articles based on facts, open-mindedness, and an awareness of the world outside their own kitchens.
Moreover, in addition to giving you two delicious lettuce-less recipes, I will prove in this essay—I mean, newsletter— that NOT ALL SALADS adhere to the one- dimensional, tired, inaccurate idea of green leaves and some limp vegetables, simply by directing you to the beauties in our archive that contain zero lettuce (which I happen to love in all its many-hued forms).
Do you see any lettuce here?
Or here?
Or here?
Or here?
Or here?
No? I didn’t think so! I could go on, and I will, because salad, like the universal life force, is never-ending. A reporter once asked me: Are you worried about running out of salads? I was stunned: I’ll be dead before we get to all the salads!
And since I’m not getting any younger I’ll get to the point here: I bring up the idea of delusional eating practices not because I wish to dictate anyone’s diet but because I have been thinking for weeks about the veggie sandwich I consumed by the metric tonne during college and for about 5 years afterward.
I was convinced that eating these delicious things—which I referred to as my salad sandwiches—made me a vegetarian even though I also ate chili slaw dogs. This habit started in the early 80s in Colorado, where everyone I met seemed to be a vegetarian and every cafe served a variation on the “veggie sandwich.” I did manage to maintain a vegetarian diet for quite a few years, but obviously, I’m not a vegetarian today—this is an omnivorous newsletter.
But I love vegetables above almost any other food, and I don’t mind saying that sometimes I need a sandwich, so that’s what we’re having today, along with a dreamy watermelon-and-radish salad (again, no lettuce!) that I needed to make because I bought too many radishes at the Dekalb Farmer’s Market.
It takes two kinds of lettuce (🥬 + $$) to keep the Department of Salad alive. The best way to support us: Punch the green button.
Since I have often disappointed myself by trying to re-create foods my mind dredges up nostalgically like this, I asked myself if there was any way I could guarantee that the veggie sandwich I built would be a delicious (if not entirely accurate) re-creation of the Colorado veggie sandwich, which must have sprouts. It must!
My answer was herb cream cheese with a whisper of garlic and lemon. Plus, the whole-wheat bread you can buy at the grocery today is much better than what we bought back then. And that made all the difference.
*RECIPE: Salad Sandwiches with Herbed Cream Cheese
If you don’t feel like making the herbed cream cheese, the avocado Green Goddess from this issue would be delicious (and so would the creamy Italian dressing from the same issue). Just spread it on both sides of the toast the way you would mayonnaise. You can use any extra herbed cream cheese to make delicious tea sandwiches on white bread with cucumbers and radishes.
For each sandwich:
2 slices of your favorite whole wheat bread, toasted (or not toasted; I love it on toast, but it’s great on soft whole wheat bread, too)
Herbed Cream Cheese (recipe below), at room temp or at the very least not straight out of the fridge
Slices of avocado, drizzled with a bit of lemon
Sprouts (these are really essential; ask your grocer where they are)
Thin slices of English cucumber (leave on the peel if it doesn’t taste bitter)
Very thin slices of red onion.
Thin slices of ripe tomato
Salt and pepper
Spread one side of each piece of toast with a nice layer of the herb cream cheese. Layer your vegetables atop one piece of cream cheese lined toast in this order, which I believe keeps the sandwich from sliding around too much, not that there’s anything wrong with a slippery sandwich: avocado, sprouts, cucumber, red onion, and tomato. Be careful not to overload each layer; you’re not building a Dagwood. Season with salt and pepper. Top with the other piece of toast, cream cheese side down, of course. Press down a bit and cut on the diagonal, not crosswise, because we are not animals. Serve immediately. (You may also serve this as an open face sandwich; why not drizzle it with a little olive oil and/or lemon before serving this way?)
*Recipe: Herbed Cream Cheese (with a Whisper of Garlic and Lemon)
Makes 1 cup
Use any assortment of herbs you find palatable, but start with parsley and remember that rosemary and thyme can overpower other herbs and should be used in smaller quantities. If you don’t plan on using onion on your sandwich you could add chopped scallions to your batch of cream cheese. I’d use about 1/4 cup.
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
Juice and zest of 1/2 lemon
1/2 small clove of garlic, grated (a whisper: you want just 3-4 scrapings of garlic)
3 tablespoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 1/2 tablespoons finely chopped basil
1 tablespoon finely chopped oregano
1 teaspoon finely chopped thyme
1 teaspoon finely chopped dill
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Use a wooden spoon to work the lemon juice and zest into the cream cheese; once it’s relaxed, add the garlic and herbs and stir again. Add salt and pepper to taste. Here you may add more lemon if you wish, or more herbs, depending on your personal desires and dreams
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*RECIPE: Refreshing Watermelon and Radish Salad with a Whisper of Feta and a Tomato Vinaigrette
Serves 4 or so
Yes, we’re whispering a lot today. This salad is proof that once you get into the salad lifestyle, you become an even bigger salad person whether you like it or not, because of your groceries. I had extra radishes left over from a recent newsletter that I needed to use, plus I always have watermelon in the fridge all summer long, plus my friend Elizabeth gave me a beautiful chunk of Greek feta. This salad practically had to happen. It’s adapted from Jamie Oliver, with a tomato vinaigrette adapted from the Williams-Sonoma cookbook.
3/4 to 1 pound of watermelon, cubed then cut into 1/4-inch slices (you don’t want them too thin—they have to stand up to the radish)
3/4 to 1 cup thinly sliced radishes
1 to 2 ounces feta cheese, thinly sliced then broken (you want a loud whisper not a shout)
Tomato vinaigrette (recipe below)
6-8 large basil leaves, torn (you may also use mint; I happened to have basil)
Flakey sea salt
Pave a platter jauntily and jumbily with an attractive array of the watermelon and radish slices without damaging the watermelon too much. Strew it all with some feta. Using a spoon, dot the salad all over with the vinaigrette, making sure to include plenty of the tomato. Adorn with the torn basil, shower with flaky seas salt if you wish, and serve. You may bring the extra tomato vinaigrette to the table.
Also, this vinaigrette makes a perfect lunch or snack spooned over cottage cheese. My favorite cottage cheese on the planet is Good Culture, which is beyond beyond beyond.
*RECIPE: Tomato Vinaigrette, adapted from Williams-Sonoma Cooking at Home
Makes about 2 cups
I peel my tomatoes by spearing them with a fork and holding them over the flame of my stove, turning frequently until the skin just blackens and blisters; it will slip right off. To seed them, cut them in half crosswise, then poke your finger into each little seed compartment and flip out the seeds. This doesn’t have to be perfect, and it’s also okay if you cook your tomato a tiny bit in the peeling process. No stressing!
1 large ripe tomato, peeled, seeded, minced
1/4 cup finely minced red onion
2/3 cup olive oil
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
Add all the ingredients to a large jar with a tight-fitting lid and shake it up. Taste and adjust seasonings. Let this dressing sit for an hour or so if you can before using. Let it come to room temp before using it after refrigerating it—otherwise it will be gloppy.
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🥬 ONE MORE THING We’ve gotten a start on PRINTABLE RECIPES! You’ll start finding downloadable PDF files (SEE THEM? ABOVE?) at the end of each recipe, working backward, until we have them all done. CONFUSED? Check the archive if you lose track of your e-mailed newsletter.
🥬 🥬ALSO, I’M WONDERING: Do you follow me on Instagram? My feed is not a consistent array of uniformly styled photos of perfect food, which I know is what I’m supposed to offer. But I get too bored. So it includes videos of giant pandas loudly eating carrots and personal crap representative of my bad personality. I’d love to have you. Go here: Emily’s Instagram
🥬 🥬🥬 I WAS RECENTLY INFORMED that the Department of Salad is getting too “southern.” I assure you all that I have a bunch of Yankee guests lined up, who’ll be sharing recipes and chatting with us in weird accents, soon. I just have to make time—and room for them in the kitchen.
🥬 🥬🥬 🥬That’s It! We’re done here! As usual, paid subscribers should keep an eye peeled for another treat later this week. In the meantime, if you feel like sharing the Department of Salad with friends or family who deserve it, please do so with the buttons below. Thanks for reading.
Those are the most gorgeous tomatoes I have ever seen in my life and I fail to see how anyone could claim that the DOS is getting too "southern". Hmph.
OMG that sliced tomato in the pic right before the salad sandwich recipe is so gorgeous...looks like a reason for living. It's what I dream of when I think of summer tomatoes.