The great thing about summer is those impromptu dinners with neighbors. Some sort of afternoon outdoor activity leads to the, “hey, come on over for dinner” invitation. The response of “great, what can I bring” guarantees a certain equity that promotes the breezy casualness of the occasion.
I accepted such an invitation this weekend and cheerfully offered to bring a salad. I’d been to the grocery store the day before and ended up with a surfeit of lettuce having purchase a large package of hearts of escarole.
I’d been on vacation, and obviously my brain had not yet returned. While I had lettuce, I hadn’t purchased much else. I had a few little pear tomatoes, but that was about it. I was honor bound. I had made the offer, and I needed to come through with a salad that would work with grilled seafood.
The fridge looked pretty nasty – long on condiments; short on fresh ingredients. I found some cheese: a heel of Gorgonzola, a large cube of cheddar, maybe, and a whole brick of smoky cheddar. I had a whole brick of it because I don’t care for smoky cheeses. I crumbled the Gorgonzola, made little cubes of the cheddar and strips of the smoky stuff. I decided to tackle this project food-tv style so I put the cheese in a ramekin and set it aside.
I returned to the refrigerator. I found a container with strips of onion and red pepper-promising. I took out a tube of anchovy paste, a smoky beef log, some pear tomatoes, my quart jar of capers, and a shallot.
With this mix, throwing together a salad didn’t seem reasonable or worse: it didn’t seem tasty. I would have to transform some of the ingredients. (If you don’t want to read about my travails, you can just scroll down to the recipe now,)
I’ve noticed lately that caramelized onions have become popular. They show up on pizzas, in pasta, and more recently on salads so why not? I cut up the white onion strips and added an equal amount of chopped red onion. I heated my trusty cast iron skillet then added a dose of olive oil. I cranked back the heat and added the onions to make a nice single layer so they’d brown rather than steam. As they became translucent and began to take on a golden caramel color, I tossed in about a half tablespoon of sugar. They caramelized almost instantly. I set them aside in another ramekin.
At this point I was in full-blown creative cook mode, or what passes for creativity in my kitchen. I looked at the red pepper strips-too many to use raw; not enough if I cooked them down. The solution: garnish. I julienned them into tiny thin strips. Back to my trusty cast iron pan, I heated it again and poured in more olive oil. This time I used about a quarter inch of oil in the pan. My goal was to fry them to an almost crispy frizzle to be scattered atop my developing culinary artwork.
As they reached the right level of crispy, I fished them out and drained them on a paper towel and, of course, put them in a ramekin. Looking at the olive oil left in the pan, it occurred to me that what I now had was some red pepper infused oil. I poured it off to use in the dressing even though I wasn’t quite sure what that would be yet.
Looking back at the de-fridgerated stash on the counter, I ruled out the capers and anchovy paste. I decided the smoky beef log would add interesting texture. I sliced it and cut the slices into eighths. The wedges added a different shape, too. I still wasn’t satisfied with the overall look. The salad needed something to bite into. Grapes, I had some great red seedless grapes so I added a handful.
It was time to address the dressing. I started with olive oil. I added a little balsamic vinegar, freshly ground pepper, and Kosher salt. I chopped the shallot. It seemed a better idea than garlic. At this point I realized all that setting aside let me forget about the red pepper infused oil. I added it anyway which meant I now needed more acid. I had brought just what I needed from my recent trip to Arizona. I had kumquats.
For those not initiated in the world of citrus, a kumquat is sort of a small, backwards orange. The pulp is sour, and the peel is sweet. You can just pop them into your mouth whole for a sweet sour treat. These would provide the final and unusual taste for the salad.
I cut five kumquats in half and squeezed out the juice – about two tablespoonsful. I added the juice to the dressing, and julienned the pulp for the salad.
Since this salad was going to travel, I bagged the torn lettuce pieces, put the cheese, beef log, grapes, caramelized onions, and kumquat peels in a container, and wrapped the frizzled red peppers in a paper towel. I set off for the neighbors: bowl, ingredients, and some habanera tostados for good measure.
To assemble the salad, I tossed the lettuce, cheese, beef log, grapes, kumquat strips, caramelized onions, and dressing in a large wooden bowl. I used the pepper strips as a garnish on the top. For good measure I took some of those habanera tostados, broken in quarters and ringed the salad with them.
The result presented a different flavor. I guess you could call it piquant. It worked well with the grilled fish, but it probably won’t happen again any time soon. A fifteen-minute salad preparation turned into about an hour, and then there’s the kumquats. You just don’t find kumquats lying around any ol’ time.
Kumquat Salad
2 heads of hearts of escarole
1 c. mix chopped red and white onions
½ T. sugar
½ red pepper julienne into very thin strips
olive oil for frying and or the dressing
2 oz Gorgonzola
2 oz. Cheddar
2 oz. smokey Cheddar
3 oz. beef log sliced and cut into eighths
¾ c. medium sized seedless red grapes
5 kumquats – squeezed for juice and julienne of skins
4 crunchy habanera tostadas
Shed the lettuce into a large salad bowl. Crumble the gorgonzola, cube the cheddar and make strips of the smoky cheese. Set aside.
Chop the onions. Preheat a cast iron pan and add about an eighth inch of olive oil. Sauté the onion over medium heat until it is translucent and begins to brown. Add the sugar and continue to sauté til the sugar is dissolved and coating the onion. Set aside.
Wipe out the cast iron pan. Reheat it and add about ¼ inch of olive oil. Heat until the oil is hot but don’t let it smoke. Add the finely julienned red peppers. Saute until they frizzle up and begin the brown. Remove from oil, drain, and set aside. Reserve the oil.