Caesar Salad

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I love the scene in The Long Long Trailer where Lucille Ball makes a Caesar salad while dressed as a Caesar salad. The dress is a pert plaid print in shades of lettuce green that, like the wearer, are an image of the period’s high style. But if you’re envisioning Lucy wearing laurels and a toga, you’re not far off. Caesar salad is called that because the fundamental ingredient of the distinctive Caesar dressing is anchovies. Anchovies, being small and easily bred in fisheries, were among the earliest animals to be farmed as a food source. As food, anchovies go back at least as far as ancient Rome and Greece, and they remain influential in Mediterranean cooking, as evidenced in such dishes as magna cauda and pissaladière.

Caesar salad, however, is an invention of the Americas, specifically Caesar Cardini, an Italian emigre and chef who operated restaurants in San Diego and Tijuana. Business was booming on the Tijuana side due to Prohibition on the American side. As with many beloved dishes, Caesar made up the salad on a busy night from ingredients at hand (according to some blasphemous sources, not including anchovies), and made it special by tossing it "by the chef" tableside. The Hotel Caesar and Caesar's Restaurant on the property remain in business, and are widely, though not universally, credited as the originators of the Caesar salad.

Caesar salad made its way to the American table via the good living movement of the mid-twentieth century. A focus of good living was appreciation of the fineries of the world. In many ways, this was in direct response to previous generations’ distrust and dislike of flavors and techniques that were, to them, too exotic for plain folk. Their American table served simple, stick-to-your-ribs food under a cultural rubric of “good enough for us.” While good enough for us gave us such wonders as, for example, home baked white bread fresh from the oven, it also gave us a restrictive, often bland, palate. In my homekeeper’s library, there are recipes in mid-century American cookbooks where a pot of chili to feed a family of six was made with one teaspoon of chili powder. This cooking prided itself on modesty but it was often the modesty of small-mindedness. One could make the argument that it was narrowness of experience manifesting as fear of flavor, and that these were xenophobia in action.

On the opposing side of the spectrum, good living embraced the expression of a worldly viewpoint. Accordingly, one could make the argument that good living was an outgrowth, practice, and result of cultural appropriation. It didn’t express fear of flavor, it embraced a world of tastes and brought them into the home. Good living impacted the home from design and décor to cooking and eating. It settled noticeably in the domain of home entertaining. Skilled social hostesses and hosts put together evenings around a cultural theme. One hosted a “French soirée,” a “Japanese tea ceremony,” a “Polynesian luau,” and so forth. The menu was built around the food of that culture, while activities were designed to stimulate discussion about the locale, from themed party games and travelogue slide shows to VIP guests giving cultural talks.

Good living aggregated not just by nationality but by hospitality. Good living also went into restaurants, bars, clubs, and mansions to bring those dishes, techniques, and practices into the American home. And so Caesar salad arrived at the American table. At that time, Caesar salad was a restaurant dish, prepared for two during dinner at the steakhouse or one of the offerings on the buffet for lunch at the club. The headwaiter prepared it in front of the diners, mixing the salad with a flourish in a large wooden bowl placed on a serving cart. For a home cook to make Caesar salad at home was something of a badge of honor, for it meant that the fine moments of a restaurant dinner were equally present in that home.

I still remember the first time I tasted Caesar salad. It was at a secluded restaurant in a brownstone in the West Village, the kind of spot with few tables and a simple, high-end menu. It was John’s and my first anniversary, and I have no idea how we came up with the funds to pay for dinner. I watched, enraptured and buzzed on good red wine, as a waiter in a black apron prepared the salad, plated it, crowned it with croutons, and wheeled the cart away. John, who had suggested we order it, watched as I took my first bite. As with the man I was with, upon first encounter I was hooked. John and I clinked glasses, and as we took our time through the rest of the meal, I already knew that I was going to learn how to prepare this dish, and that I wanted to prepare it for the man who was to become my husband.

That was early May, 1992. Joe’s Bar and Grill has long since quit operating, and John and I are still together. I did learn how to prepare Caesar salad, and in honor of our anniversary, I am publishing what may be the single best recipe I have. I should hoard it for a cookbook, but I’ve been screwed over enough to have little faith remaining for that. As I’ve perfected this recipe, I have learned a few hard and fast rules regarding Caesar salad. First, yes it is labor intensive, but making Caesar's salad should be showy. Caesar salad is prepared fresh when it is time to eat, with the dressing mixed on the spot because it is too heavy to sit in the fridge waiting. The dressing contains anchovies, no exceptions; anything other may be viable but it is not Caesar dressing. Finally, in the name of the Holy Roman Emperor, strip the leaves of the Romaine using the technique below, never ever slice the lettuce crosswise. That is because it is as much an insult to the integrity of the dish for Caesar to find a rib in his salad as it is for him to find a knife in his back.

Caesar Salad
For best results, mix your Caesar salad in a large wooden bowl using wooden salad servers to mix the dressing and toss the salad. You may have leftover Romaine; that is okay. Store it in a vegetable bag for use in a simple side salad within a few days.

For the dressing
1 egg
3-4 medium cloves garlic, peeled and pithed
4-5 canned or jarred anchovy filets
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Worchestershire sauce
¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan
Freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

For the salad
2 – 3 heads fresh Romaine
1 recipe garlic bread (click here)

Prepare the lettuce

• Rinse the lettuce and place on paper towels.
• Position an in-sink colander in place.
• For each head of lettuce, hold the root end with one hand. Use the other hand to strip each leaf by tearing the lettuce upwards along the rib. Snap off the leaf at the top tip of the leaf. Transfer the leaf to the in-sink colander.
• Continue with step 3 above until you have stripped each head of its leaves, leaving the ribs connected to the root end of the lettuce for composting.
• Cover the lettuce leaves with paper towels and leave in the colander while you prepare the dressing.

Prepare the dressing

• When ready to serve, press 3 cloves garlic into a wooden salad bowl. If the garlic is very pungent stop there. If the garlic is mild or if you like a strong garlic flavor, press the remaining clove into the bowl.
• Depending on their size, place 5 small-medium or 4 medium-large anchovy filets into the bowl with the garlic.
• Use the back of a wooden spoon (the salad server is fine) to mash the garlic and anchovies together until a thick, very fragrant paste forms.
• Separate the egg and place the yolk in the bowl with the garlic-anchovy mixture. Add several grindings of fresh black pepper to the mixture.
• Use the wooden spoon to mash the garlic-anchovy mixture with the egg yolk and black pepper until a thick paste forms.
• Measure the Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar, and a dash of Worcestershire sauce into the bowl. Use the spoon to stir the mixture vigorously until it forms a thick yellow base for the dressing.
• Measure the olive oil into a small measuring cup with a spout. Hold the measuring cup high over the bowl containing the dressing. Tilt the cup so that the oil pours into the bowl in a thin steady stream, stirring the mixture with your free hand as the oil pours into it, until you have used all of the oil and a thick emulsification has formed in the bowl.
• Measure the Parmesan into the cup you used for the olive oil. Use a silicon spatula to scrape the Parmesan and any leftover oil into the bowl containing the dressing until the measuring cup is clean of ingredients.
• Stir the Parmesan into the dressing. 

Prepare and serve the salad

• Working a few leaves at a time, tear the lettuce over the bowl so that it falls into the dressing. Do not worry about the shape and exactitude of the torn leaves; they should be different sizes and shapes.
• Use salad servers to press the lettuce into the dressing using a crossways motion with the servers held in a letter X. Working this way with a handful of leaves at a time, the salad will begin to build volume.
• Keep going until the bowl is full of Romaine leaves are well-coated with the dressing, stopping when the bowl is full enough to serve.
• Measure a nice portion of salad onto each diner’s plate. Top with a piece of garlic bread. Serve immediately.

Resources
Cobb Salad
Salade Niçoise
Anchovy Vinaigrette