My local GinormousMart has the mildly irritating habit of putting romaine hearts on sale in a massive six pack for cheaper than my usual three pack every time a fresh harvest comes in from the Quebec greenhouses. Coupled with my own homegrown micro-greens not getting that memo and continuing to produce non-stop, some weeks I end up with enough greens to start a rabbit farm. Time to make some salad dressing. My brain never remembers these proportions properly on the fly for lettuce groupies that hang out in the produce section so I better write it down for everyone.
Everyone knows classic Caesar salad. The story is well told how a restaurateur in prohibition-era Tijuana, Mexico, Caesar Cardini, originally made it from dwindling kitchen stocks in 1924 and later migrated the idea to southern California haunts filled with Hollywood actors. They made it into a popular nationwide sensation among the speakeasy hipsters of the time. Julia Child herself recounts a Caesar salad encounter in her early days.
If you can get the dressing perfected, the rest is easy. Romaine hearts halved or otherwise cut to preference, generous gratings of Parmesan, a grilled crouton or two and you’re there. No need for the complicated modern constructs laden with grilled chicken or other superfluous fern bar decorations. Banish the fake versions found in rubbish chain restaurants made from a corporate mix that only share the name as a marketing tool. Everything from potato crisps to frozen pizzas can come with some sort of Caesar permutation stapled onto the label these days, most of which are such a far cry from the original as to be laughable. The classic embraces simplicity and delivers a genuinely unique taste combination. You can go nuts in other ways when you’re out at the fancy salad bars of the world but a well made Caesar will always be waiting for you like a trusty sidekick when you come back home.
The original recipe was often made table side and used whole anchovy fillets according to recounts of those heady salad days. I have no problems using whole fillets for flavour but get more irked by the tin sizes in which they usually get packaged and the price they command since most are European imports here in Canada. Unless I want to make a gallon of dressing and a week’s worth of puttanesca at the same time, I end up with an expensive half tin of fish smell in my fridge for an extra month. Anchovy paste is a more convenient substitute but I’ve found only a few of the very best brands give decent flavour at a similarly exorbitant price.
An import from Asia can save the day. Ordinary fish sauce is almost always made from 100% anchovies. It says so right on the label of my local brand. Check your own label to be sure. You can get a small bottle for a buck even in the Megamarket’s abysmal ‘Asian foods’ section and keep it properly sealed in your fridge practically forever. It’s not as strong as the oil-packed fillets but in the case of this dressing, I’m OK with that fact. You can easily adjust the amount to meet your tastes for the dressing and then discover over time the wonders that just a hint of fish sauce can add to all your other cookery. Like anchovies themselves, when cooked into submission it hints of something you can’t quite pin down and unless you go nuts with the measure rarely tastes “fishy”. I hate to resort to the vastly overused and routinely misinterpreted hip culinary term du jour but it is indeed umami.
I don’t use an egg as the original does simply because it’s not needed for the basic dressing. The high powered blender accomplishes the emulsification just fine with mustard powder although I’m sure sturdy kitchen warriors could finish the same task with a wide bowl and whisk. Egg-less also gives you more storage time I suspect but if you’re having trouble with separation in your climate, use the trick of adding a tablespoon of mayonnaise to the mix which is, as you know, just egg and oil pre-emulsified for you in a handy package. I sometimes employ this technique if headed to a hot summer BBQ or just feel like a creamier end result.
If you want to be true to the original salad recipe, coddle an egg in simmering water and blend it into the bottom of your salad bowl with this dressing as you make each salad, not beforehand. The same goes for the traditional Parmesan cheese. Leave it out of the dressing and simply micro-plane fresh heaps of it to your liking when it comes time to introduce the romaine to the party.
I use equal parts of olive and plain “vegetable oil” here but you can swing that ratio pendulum either direction according to taste and budget. Olive is a richer flavour but can be too cloying depending on your brand. Avoid any oil with overbearing notes such as corn oil. Clean flavours like rapeseed or safflower will work much better here so use what’s convenient in your part of the globe.
It’s worth mentioning that I recently had a taste of ready-made bottled Caesar dressing from one of the fancy companies trying to sell the convenience factor “as good as homemade”. It was without a doubt some of the nastiest, gummiest glop I’ve ever tasted on lettuce. The ingredient list read like a chemical plant and the texture of the finished product was akin to slug trails. And this from a “gourmet” company. I don’t care if it’s on sale or “just for emergencies”, avoid the factory versions at all costs. This will only take five minutes to blend a batch at home and will keep under refrigeration for two months worth of salads in a hurry. It only improves with a bit of time as the ingredients get to know each other in the fridge.
Finally, don’t make the classic rookie mistake of overdressing *any* type of salad. Add half of what you think you want and toss for *at least* a count of thirty before adding any more. No, really… count to thirty. Out loud. Puddles of dressing at the bottom of the salad bowl are not allowed and instantly mark you as a salad amateur.
Caesar Salad Dressing
25 grams (about six large cloves) freshly peeled garlic
4 teaspoons fish sauce
1 teaspoon freshly ground black peppercorn
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon dry mustard powder (e.g. Coleman’s)
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
Juice and zest of one large lemon
120 ml (1/2 cup) extra virgin olive oil
120 ml (1/2 cup) vegetable oil
1 tablespoon mayonnaise (optional – see notes above)
Yield: 300-400ml dressing
Add all ingredients except oils into a high powered blender. Pulse to blend and then leave the blender running on low speed as you drizzle in the oils slowly to emulsify. Switch to medium high power for about a minute, adding water to thin to your desired consistency.*
Transfer to your favourite bottles and refrigerate for several hours before first use. Stores well for weeks of salad simplicity. Don’t forget to add plenty of freshly grated Parmesan and an (optional) coddled egg into your final salad to complete the classic taste.
* I usually add roughly 60ml (1/4 cup) of water because a slightly thinner dressing is better to work with in the final salad and comes out of fine tipped squeeze bottles more easily but this is strictly up to your texture whims. Adjust any and all of the ingredients to your preference but only after it’s had a few hours in the fridge and you’ve tasted it in context, i.e. on lettuce with a bit of Parmesan. A spoonful straight from the bottle will make you think it’s all out of whack.
