Salad Dressing

In the restaurant world, a one-day internship is called a trail. The student works at whatever station he or she is needed and then, depending on the restaurant, either watches the service buzz by or jumps right in. It’s a win-win situation for both parties, because the trailing cook gets some extra experience and knowledge, and the restaurant gets free labor. Sometimes, trails turn into internships or jobs, but when you’re in the middle of a trail all you’re typically thinking about is what’s happening around you right then and there.

I started my internship at Aldea with a trail, and because I came straight from the world of puppies, sparkles and rainbows, unlike some of my more seasoned co-workers, I’d never actually had a trail before. I was largely a miserable failure, taking excruciatingly long to perform the simplest tasks. (At one point, every single cook stopped what they were doing and showed me how to shave chives. If you’re so inclined to cut them perfectly, try using the whole of your knife blade in a sort of sliding motion.) Anyway, despite how the story goes in my head, it couldn’t have been too tragic because I was asked back, and the rest, as you know, is history.

But I think what I remember the most from that first time on the line is learning how to plate a salad from Carl. Carl was working the garde manger station that night – sort of. It seemed to me he was actually ricocheting back and forth between 3 different stations, but the important thing was that when an appetizer or small plate order ticked in, he was by my side, working like a madman. I was standing at his side like a moron, saying “Uh-huh. Cool. Yup. Got it. Cool,” to everything he said, even though between all that kitchen lingo and his broken English, I could only understand about a quarter of it.

An order for a Lolla Rossa Salad came in, and per the recipe’s specifications, he put the Lolla Rossa lettuce in a bowl, along with some tatsoi and a generous drizzle of sunchoke-shallot vinaigrette. He seasoned the greens too, and then looked at me. “You always use the glove,” he said, his face inches from mine. “In an open kitchen, people see everything, and they watch too. The glove, you always use.”

He reached his hand into a quart container where he presumably kept them. “Oh, shit!” he said, coming up empty. There were no more latex gloves. But the salad needed to be tossed, then plated, and tickets were lining up quickly. He gave me a positively wicked look and laughed and plunged his bare hand into the salad bowl. “Naked is moooore fun!”

I bit back a laugh and tried not to look surprised. Who was this guy? He wiped his slick hand on a towel and arranged a smattering of beets on the plate.

Later, when I began working garde manger, I dressed my own Lolla Rossa salads. Because Carl was right – we were in a restaurant kitchen – I always pulled on my glove before tossing the lettuce. When I transitioned from restaurant to home cook, I welcomed the relaxed time constraints and used tongs to mix things up. But yesterday, as I seasoned a bowl of organic romaine lettuce in my own kitchen, I thought about Carl’s jointed laughter. I stuck my hand right into the bowl and swirled the greens around, letting them acquire a sheen of vinaigrette. I fussily arranged the lettuce in a towering heap and, because it was just me, licked the vinaigrette off every single one of my fingers. It was peppery and zingy, with a hint of pink peppercorns. It was delicious, and I hadn’t even gotten to the salad yet. Carl was right. Naked is way more fun.

 

Aldea Dressing

I would never disrespect my chef and coworkers by publishing a recipe we used at the restaurant – those are closely guarded secrets. And besides. I accidentally left my moleskin recipe notebook in the kitchen on my last day. But I did pick up a trick that I’m happy to share. The vinaigrette we used on the Lolla Rossa was made smooth and dreamy by the addition of creme fraiche. Ever since then, I’ve been hooked on the stuff. I also like to include sherry vinegar and pink peppercorns in my vinaigrette. Even though this version is much simpler than theirs, the flavors take me right back to the restaurant. I like to call it my “Aldea Dressing.”

 

  • 1/4 cup sherry vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon light brown sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon crushed pink peppercorns
  • 3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
  • 1 tablespoon creme fraiche
  • Salt, to taste

Combine the sherry vinegar, brown sugar and peppercorns in a bowl and whisk to combine. (I like to first place the peppercorns on a cutting board and crush them with the back of a frying pan. They retain some of their integrity that way, rather than being ground to oblivion in a pepper mill.)

Slowly whisk in the olive in. Once it’s emulsified, whisk in the creme fraiche. Season with salt.

Drizzle over lettuce and dress in whatever level of nudity you’re most comfortable.

 

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