Lettuce Make Another Salad

I got off to a late start planting my vegetable garden this spring. I knew I'd have to wait until after hip surgery in mid-February, and then when I felt well enough to get outside, I quickly discovered that leaning way down to plant at ground level wasn't going to happen. There was only one solution: invest in raised beds that would bring the working area up to a height I could tolerate without bending over. By the time the beds were delivered, positioned, filled with good planting soil, and irrigation installed, the ideal time for planting lettuce in Southern California was almost passed. With hot weather bearing down on me, but still determined to put in some lettuce, I made my way to Flora Gardens nursery to see what was possible.

Most of the cool-season lettuces were no longer available, but a lovely purple-red lettuce caught my eye: Midnight Ruffles Red Romaine. It sounded like a name for a pedigreed race horse so I was convinced it would be a winner. Two days after planting the seedlings, the temperature shot up to the high-90s, a death sentence for most lettuce. The only thing I could do was to keep it well-watered and hope for the best. For several unseasonably hot weeks I fretted and hovered, and my lettuce seedlings hung in there. Against all odds, I am now harvesting beautiful ruby-red lettuce.

This is a lettuce with a pronounced flavor, not bitter, but assertive, so when I make a salad I pair it with other equally assertive-tasting ingredients. At the Ojai Farmers' Market, I found a Green Butter Oak Leaf lettuce, a red onion, tomatoes, and a sweet red bell pepper for color and crunch. Back at home, I added some crumbled Greek feta cheese and topped the whole thing with a yogurt-based ranch dressing. Paired with a boule of freshly baked artisan bread and a medium-bodied California chardonnay, I had a meal fit for a queen. A winner, indeed.

The Revenge of the Killer Tomatoes

Okay, now what?

Those four tiny tomato seedlings I planted in the spring have joined forces to overwhelm the garden. They’ve gotten so heavy and unruly, they’ve knocked over their wire tomato cages, have cascaded over their raised bed and are overtaking everything in their path.

The plants are so intertwined I can no longer tell where one begins and the other ends, except for the size and shape of the tomatoes. I reach for a Heritage, and out comes a cluster of cherry tomatoes; their stems are so snarled up it’s impossible to pick one at a time. So I picked a basketful of everything I could reach and got ready for a tomato binge.

I started with a basic tomato dish that happens to be my favorite summer appetizer: the classic Calabrese salad. There are a million variations on this salad that originated in Calabria in southern Italy, but tomatoes, basil, olive oil and red wine vinegar are absolute musts; mozzarella cheese is optional (according to some Italian purists), but I would never leave it out.

Calabrese Salad

Large tomatoes

Mozzarella cheese

Fresh basil

Balsamic vinaigrette.

Salt and pepper to taste

I didn’t list quantities because it depends on the size of the tomatoes and how large a salad you want to make. For an entrée size dish, slice 1-2 large tomatoes into ¼-inch slices, arrange them in an overlapping circle on a large dish and season with salt and freshly ground pepper. Cut mozzarella into thin slices and tuck them in between the tomato slices. Garnish with just-picked basil leaves. Drizzle with a balsamic vinaigrette, or drizzle with olive oil followed by a splash of red wine vinegar.

This, along with a demi-baguette and a glass of Chianti, is all I could ever hope for on a hot summer evening.

There are another dozen or so tomatoes still waiting for me in the kitchen, so if anyone has a recipe that uses LOTS of tomatoes (but not ketchup; I don’t like peeling and seeding tomatoes), please let me know.

Lettuce Make A Salad

The spring of 2011 was not the year to start garden vegetables early. I planted lettuce about six weeks ago and the poor things have endured spells of temperatures in the mid-90s followed by torrential rain and unseasonably cold, windy nights. Still, they have soldiered on, and this week I have started picking perfect heads of Green Oak Leaf, Butter Crunch and Red Loose-leaf.

In their raised beds, young heads of lettuce form a checkerboard of vibrant colors and are almost too beautiful to assault with a kitchen knife. So I’ve developed a ritual whereby I admire them with loving gazes and verbal flattery before I whack them off at the stem and take them into the kitchen. Even though they were grown organically and are chemical-free, a thorough rinsing and a cold water bath flushes out any little bugs or specks of soil that hide near the stem. After some chilling in the fridge, they are ready for the salad bowl.

My friend Katrina, a terrific cook who now lives in England, taught me how to make vinaigrette, and it is so tasty and easy to prepare I will never, ever use a store-bought dressing again. This recipe can be altered in a number of ways by changing the vinegar or the oil and adding fresh herbs, but I keep coming back to the basics.

Katrina’s Vinaigrette

¼ Cup good quality balsamic vinegar

¼ Cup water

½ Cup extra virgin olive oil. Some olive oils are a little heavy for my tastes, so I use a “light” olive oil, or half EVOO and half canola oil. You can experiment with this.

¼ Teaspoon Colman’s dry mustard, or ½ Teaspoon Dijon mustard

1 Large clove of garlic, mashed through a garlic press

Salt and pepper to taste

Put all ingredients in a clean 1-pint screw-top jar and shake to emulsify. For a thicker dressing, combine the vinegar, water, garlic and mustard in a blender, and with the motor running, slowly drizzle in the oil through the opening in the lid. Then add the salt and pepper. Refrigerate any unused dressing in the covered jar.

This recipe makes one cup of dressing, enough to dress a salad for at least six people. I also use this vinaigrette on steamed or roasted asparagus, and on that favorite of all summer salads: sliced tomatoes and Mozzarella cheese generously garnished with a chiffonade of basil.