"The difference between a perfect salad and one that has failed is immense," says the observant Baron Brisse. It must be remembered that in salad-making many forms of the crude material may not be prepared to advantage immediately before serving. Among such may be included corn-salad, dandelion, curled endive, cabbage, and all species of lettuce, endive, or chicory that may be in the least coriaceous. These require to be prepared a considerable period before using and to be thoroughly mixed, even to pressing them with the fork and spoon, in order that the dressing may be partly absorbed by the leaves to render them tender. The same rule will apply to all species in which the bitter element is pronounced. Thorough mixing should never be neglected. The bowl should be ample, the material dry and freshly plucked, and the onion, chives, parsley, celery, or whatever herbs are employed should not be chopped until just before they are required. Above all, a salad, like white wine, should be served cold.
The too frequent latter-day custom of creating a separate course of salad and cheese, in order to prolong the number of courses, is incongruous. The salad belongs to the roast, and it should not be called upon to perform the service of a separate bridge between this and the sweets. The mission of the salad is to correct the too liberal ingestion of rich and fatty substances, to prepare for the dessert, to stimulate and divert the taste, and to promote stomachic harmony at a time when the appetite has begun to flag and the palate is impatient of a long delay between the roast and the demi-tasse.
It is next to impossible, as has already been remarked, to give absolute directions for the compounding of a salad, so far as the precise amount of each component is concerned, some exacting more oil and salt, some more vinegar and pepper than others—the acidity of vinegar withal being an extremely variable quantity. Some are enhanced by mustard or red pepper, and with some the pounded yellow of the egg and mashed potato are improvements. The place of the salad, too, requires to be considered—whether it is to be an accompaniment of the roast or is designed as something more substantial for the luncheon or supper-table. In the latter case a macédoine of freshly cooked vegetables composed of beets, potatoes, turnips, carrots, parsnips, Lima beans, cauliflower, celery-turnip, etc., might be excellent, whereas it would hardly prove appropriate with roast game at the dinner. After all,—to revert to formulas,—the best recipe for a salad, perhaps, is the oft-quoted Spanish proverb which calls for a quartet to compose it—a spendthrift for oil, a miser for vinegar, a counsellor for salt, and a madman for mixing.
An excellent addition to nearly any form of salad is chopped onion, parsley, and celery. Some onion, however small a quantity, is invariably required, unless chives be used instead, or the bowl be rubbed with garlic, or bread rubbed with garlic be stirred in, for those who may prefer. Of the several modes of mixing salads, each of which is extolled by different authorities, some may be better than others, but all are good, as a philosopher has observed with respect to the merits of whiskey. And of these different methods, again a distinction needs to be made according to the material. Once more it may be said, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, and that alone through practice and intelligent study of the perspective of blending may the art of salad-making be mastered.
As simple and as good a so-termed French dressing as any for general use is to add to the minced onion the requisite quantity of salt, letting this stand for five or ten minutes; then, after adding to this the proper quantity of oil, vinegar, and pepper, stir thoroughly and pour over the salad. If English mustard is required, this should be previously incorporated with the oil. The result still depends upon the fine adjustment of the ingredients, the mixing, and the quality and character of the material.
Another method is to mix the salt and mustard, where mustard may be employed, with the oil, incorporating them by degrees, then adding the vinegar; pepper the salad material separately, and lastly pour on and mix in the dressing thoroughly. Separate peppering of the leaves, however, possesses no advantage; on the contrary, it is more trying to the eyes, and the pepper is much less evenly distributed.
A third method consists in placing the necessary salt and pepper in the salad-spoon, then pouring the vinegar into the spoon and stirring with the fork until the salt and pepper become well amalgamated with the vinegar. This is subsequently to be well mixed with the salad material, on which chopped onion and herbs have been placed, vigorously agitated, and afterwards, when the oil has been added, mixed a second time. By the jewelled white fingers of a pretty and well-gowned hostess who has a knack at salad-making this formula may be executed at table with highly artistic results.
There is finally the plan adopted by Chaptal, which consists in saturating and mixing the salad material with oil, seasoned with pepper and salt, before employing the vinegar. By this treatment the salad can never become too acid, for should the vinegar happen to be excessive, it slips over the oil to the bottom of the bowl. This means, while advantageous for tender cos or lettuce, is not so desirable for any material that may have a tendency to toughness, as the vinegar may not as readily penetrate and soften the leaves. Good oil, vinegar, and pepper and careful incorporating of the ingredients, with a judicious use of herbs, and the tact born of experience, count for everything in the preparation of salads.
Mayonnaise dressing of course belongs to certain greenmeat salads, as well as the so-called French dressing—the most easily prepared and wholesome of all. The mayonnaise is especially favoured by femininity, and the French dressing by the sterner sex; though for meat salads, as a general rule, the mayonnaise, mayonnaise à la ravigotte, or sauce provençale is prescriptive.