Today is a day about independence, which is a word that is synonymous with “autonomy,” and I won’t go out of my way to gripe about the irony but suffice it to say that I’m largely skipping over the context of the day. My only hope for this Monday is that Clarence Thomas contracts listeria at a barbecue.
Moving on.
You loved the potatoes! I’m so glad. They’re the best. Today’s recipe is not unlike that one: a beloved starchy thing made lighter and brighter, stained green with the fruits of the season. Also, as a bonus (or, perhaps, as a mea culpa for last week’s non-negotiable amounts of butter) today’s is 100% vegan - although, should you opt to top it with a fat, chilly ball of burrata, I won’t judge you. I support your bodily autonomy - in this way, in every way, every day. xo.
Reader Q.
Question: “Any favorite green salad recipes? Everything I make always winds up tasting kind of… lacking.” - KW, NYC
Answer: Maybe it’s not you, friend - maybe it’s just salad.
Can I come clean about something? I don’t love leafy salad. I love vegetables - including raw ones! - and I even love lettuce. But in general, I want at least one of these two things to be true about my food: “it is crazy delicious,” or, “it is crazy nutritious” (and if we’re lucky, it’s often both!). Salad, though - can we be real? - is almost always neither. Salads that rely on leaves for bulk are largely, actually, air; the leaves just take up a lot of space in the bowl. And while most lettuces do have some inherent nutritional value, they’re also like 97% water; by the time you’ve gnawed and chawed through a massive bowl of lettuce, you’ve ingested very little actual food. (Don’t believe me? Take one of those giant Costco boxes of salad mix that lasts you all week, and smash it into a blender. It’ll yield a little over a pint of puree when all is said and done. One measly pint of fiber and vitamins - spread out over six-plus meals. No wonder we’re always hungry, you know what I’m saying?) Nutritionally, they are really most valuable for what they are not: it’s the “the best part of a salad is that you’re not eating a 1-pound cheeseburger” argument. Then there’s the matter of all of that single-use plastic, and all of the fossil fuel needed to get delicate greens safely to their second home, often thousands of miles away; salad hardly feels like the noble culinary choice, when viewed through that particular lens. What’s more, green salads are actually kind of an executional pain in the ass: it’s not easy to find the right combination of inclusions/toppings that (a) pair well while also (b) having similarly forkable qualities; a good, balanced, perfect bite of leafy salad is a unicorn, one that takes a lot of planning and stabbing to achieve. A beautiful specimen of farmers’ market lettuce isn’t not worth eating - it’s just that enjoying it simply dressed and otherwise unadorned is among the kindest things you can do to lettuce, and to yourself. Don’t over-complicate.
If you still want to be Someone Who Green Salads, I admire your conviction. (Truly!) And since I’ve already gone off the rails on this one, might as well keep going; here are some good rules of thumb:
Use hardier greens (diced or shredded cabbages or kale, romaine, iceberg, frisee, escarole, etc.) for heftier toppings, like fried items or roasted vegetables or candied nuts, or even big clumsy pieces of ripe tomato.
Use lighter greens (baby greens, arugula, mature leaf lettuces) for lighter inclusions: sprouts, thin slices of peaches or pear, shaved onion, slivered almonds.
Using a combo of toppings and add-ins? Use a combo of greens. It’ll all tangle better, and won’t leave you with a raft of lettuce floating on top of a bowl of sunken goods.
In addition to lettuces, always include: something rich and creamy; something crisp or crunchy; something chewy; something sweet; something salty; and something tart. A great salad needs balance. Don’t feel overwhelmed, though: some of the best and most common salad items satisfy more than one of those needs. Cubes of feta are salty and creamy; dried fruit is chewy and sweet; fresh corn is crisp and sweet; you get the idea.
Sometimes, size does matter: leave the chopping in the past. Clunky extras just sink, and are a forkability nightmare. Use your mandoline, your julienne peeler, your sharpest knife: lacy shreds of celery or carrot play with lettuces so much better than inch-long chunks. You’ll be surprised at the difference a lighter touch with prep can make: I’d never enjoy raw cubes of zucchini in a green salad, but would jump at one made with long threads of it’s toothsome, emerald skin.
Dress the bowl first, then add the salad and toss. Dress green salads immediately before serving. Never forget the S&P! Never dress a green salad unless the leaves are as dry as possible. Ugh. So many rules. Seriously, make a panzanella instead.
Links: Salad.
Because now I feel bad about the salad thing.
🥯 I think a traditional wedge salad slays. Whether you agree or not, though, I appreciate this recipe’s clever use of Everything-Bagel seasoning for crunch. That’s a trick that you could use on any salad: using nutty, seedy, crispy toppings for texture rather than forkably-difficult things like nuts or croutons. Dukkah, Everything seasoning, gomasio, toasted rice powder, even seasoned breadcrumbs - all good options.
🥬 Speaking of bread crumbs, this is the single greatest kale salad - and, perhaps, simple green salad? - on the planet.
🥓 Another example of a simple, perfect classic salad specimen. A now-shuttered favorite restaurant used to serve this with chilled beets and a drizzle of truffle oil, and I miss it dearly.
🫙 Whatever you’re salading together - grains or leaves or soft roasted roots or crisp summery shredded things - you’ll need a good dressing, so don’t skip this issue; it’ll help you get there.
🙃 And lastly, if perhaps you’re intrigued by my largely anti-salad stance, this piece from Voraciously was really interesting (scroll down to #4 for the salad bit to feel validated, like I did).
Recipe: Zucchini Risotto.
Makes: 4 entree servings; more if it’s a side.
Time: about an hour, but it’s largely hands-off.
‘Tis the season! Summer cucurbits abound. Whether you planted a single vine and are now staggering beneath dozens of pounds of zuke, or are finding them constantly tucked into your market and CSA bags by generous farmers desperate to unload their bounty, this is The Truth of zucchini season: you always have more than you know what to do with. Let’s dispatch five of them, right now.
Deb Perelman published this gem last summer, and it resonated with me because I’ve been making something akin to her zucchini butter for years —- only, I was using it to season and moisten meatballs, rather than to dress pasta. It hadn’t occurred to me to think beyond. But the depth of flavor that you get from reducing all of the water inside a zucchini, rather than just salting and squeezing it all away as so many zuke recipes require - it’s really amazing. It’s so rich and mellow. Add it to pasta, like she does, or meatballs, as do I - or make this, which is unsuspectingly vegan and a welcome accompaniment to anything grilled. Or, if you’re not of the vegan sort, a chubby ball of burrata.
» You can make this in an Instant Pot but it won’t shave off much time.
» If you’re not vegan and aren’t married to keeping the recipe so, you can use butter instead of coconut oil.
» Not a fan of kale? Feel free to sub in any leafy green, or swirl in some fresh corn kernels - or just skip it.
» You can, of course, add garlic if you must.
» If you can’t find yellow zucchini, just use all green! NBD. It’s worth mentioning, though, that yellow zukes are not the same as the more-commonly found yellow crooknecks (also often called “summer squash”), which do not work, here. Those are the ones that have a bulbous bottom with a long, curving neck, and ridged skin; skip ‘em. They are more bitter than zucchini, and have more fibrous seed casings that don’t always grate well.
Ingredients
5 medium zucchini, a mixture of yellow and green, grated (you want between 6 and 8 cups of zucchini threads, no need to be too exacting here)
2 shallots, grated (or you can mince them, but why would you?)
1 T olive oil (or other cooking oil of choice)
2 tsp fine-grained salt, like sea salt or pink Himalayan
juice and zest of one organic lemon
1 cup Arborio rice
4 cups water (or a broth or stock of your choice)
1 T coconut oil
2 T miso paste (any style is fine)
4-6 leaves of lacinato kale, given the chiffonade treatment (no need to de-stem)
1/4 cup of large basil leaves (also chiffonaded) (is that a word?)
chili-infused oil or a chili crisp (optional)
burrata, for serving (also optional)
Instructions
In a large Dutch oven, cast-iron braiser, or other heavy lidded pot, warm the olive oil over medium heat and add the many cups of shredded zucchini, as well as any liquid that collected in the bowl (or do as I do: just grate it right into the Dutch oven before moving it to the stove - no big deal). Add your shallots in, too. Sprinkle the salt over the veg evenly, stir well to season, then cover with the lid.
You’re going to cook the zucchini, covered, over medium heat until it releases enough liquid to simmer itself in a depth of at least an inch. You don’t need to whip out a ruler, but you want there to be a lot of liquid. Start checking after 5-7 minutes, but stir and cover, checking often, until it gets there. It will, and quickly, so don’t stress.
Once the shredded veg is simmering in its own juices, remove the lid and reduce the heat to medium-low. Allow it to continue to cook, stirring every 7-10 minutes or so, until it reduces to about two cups of a thick, olive-green paste the texture of apple butter. You won’t believe that it will cook down quite that much, but it will. It should take about 30 minutes.
When the zucchini has fully reduced, add in the lemon zest and juice, using the acid and a wooden spoon to deglaze all of the tasty brown bits from the bottom of the pot. Then add the rice, the water, and the coconut oil and miso; raise the heat to medium-high and bring the mixture to a simmer, stirring often to encourage lots of starch action from the rice as well as to completely dissolve the miso paste.
Once the risotto is bubbling, fold in the fine threads of kale and again reduce the heat - this time to low - and return the lid to the pot. Cook, stirring every 7-10 minutes, until the rice is tender, the risotto has thickened, and nearly all of the liquid is absorbed.
When the risotto is done cooking, turn off the heat and allow it to sit, covered, for 10 minutes.
Taste for seasoning! Add more salt, miso, or lemon as suits you. Fold in the basil and serve immediately, topped with a crunchy, spicy oil. Eat this with cold silken tofu, topped with soy sauce and chilis; with spicy grilled shrimp; with slices of cold leftover steak or mushrooms from the grill; or, please, seriously, with the burrata.
Butterpat.
A little something extra.
We talked about granitas here last summer, but as sticky, jammy fruits again descend upon us, I felt it was worth revisiting (albeit on a different platform). They’re not fast, but they are easy, and you’re getting this early enough that you could have one ready to serve long before the fireworks hit the skylines, tonight.