As a somebody who self-identifies with eating too much meat, I also eat more vegetables than nearly anybody I know. I am a complex individual, a walking dichotomy (if you looked up “unknowable” in the dictionary you would see a photo of yours truly, along with a screenshot of Windows Vista).
Most of my vegetables come in the form of salad. I mean, who amongst us does not enjoy a nicely tossed salad?
The following recipe is for My Most Favorite Salad Ever, roughly adapted from a Lebanese restaurant that existed a decade ago in Tucson, Arizona, a place where I went attended high school and college and, subsequently, spent many brain cells.
When I was just starting out in my career as a pixel pusher, often during lunch I would jump on my Schwinn cruiser and motor over to the local university row. The aforementioned Lebanese joint served—in addition to your mezze standards and shawerma—a couple rotating daily specials that usually involved stewed chicken quarters or lamb shanks in a delicious sauce, served over generous portions of rice. Back then my metabolism was a force to reckon with, and I could put away 1000 calories at lunch, so I ate at this place often, often indulging in a plate of whatever the kitchen was cooking. An added bonus was that the Lebanese gentleman who operated the establishment was a total dick and seemed to really despise me for reasons I could never discern (outside of the normal ones), so that made patronizing his establishment that much more satisfying.
Anyhow, along with the stewed meat and rice, the daily special came with a nice scoop of salad. When I first ordered my plated special, I thought the salad was an afterthought; it was sitting at room temperature, already dressed, in a large chafing dish, alongside the dolmas and kibbeh. Hey, this salad is wilted…old salad!
I reserved the salad for the last few bites, after I had consumed the meat and starch, treating it as a palate cleanser, and when I took my first few bites it was a revelation. This wilted, old, forgotten afterthought of a salad? Fucking awesome. Each subsequent visit resulted in salad joy. The asshole who owned the place thought he was dicking me when he would progressively lighten up on the meat and rice and unbalance my plate with extra salad, but I nobly took such customer abuse with silent exhilaration. Ten years may have passed, but I never forget, you generous motherfucker.
Marinated Salad “Ceviche”, AKA “The Asshole Toss”
- an entire head of romaine lettuce, ribs removed
- 1/2 (or more) an English, seedless cucumber (or 2-3 Persian cukes). roughly chopped, skin on.
- 1/2 pound chopped tomato or halved grape tomatoes
- 1/2 red onion, coarsely chopped
- 1/2 bunch parsley, stems removed, coarsely town
- large handful of fresh mint leaves (14-16 or more)
- 1 lemon
- extra virgin olive oil
- fine sea salt
- freshly cracked pepper
- ground sumac
Assemble all the vegetables in a large salad bowl. Squeeze the juice of an entire lemon over the veggies, and douse generously with olive oil. Add a VERY healthy pinch of salt (this salad is oversalted, and that helps draw out water from the lettuce [and other veggies],—which will came into play later) plenty of pepper, and a touch of sumac. Toss that salad. Toss it. Toss it plenty.
Now leave the kitchen. Go watch the E! channel or whatever it is that grown adults watch these days. Or read a book, just nothing by Jane Austen. Goddamn that shit is unbearable. Go back into the kitchen after 10 minutes or so, and pour on some more oil and toss it. Toss that salad. Toss it lots. Then go check the mail. Check your email. Post an off-the-cuff missive rife with invective on some message board. Maybe log into Paypal and send $100 to “omnivore@guiltycarnivore.com” as a litmus test just to see if this person is real. Look at cats on the Internet. Process their LOL messages.
Then pour the salad onto a nice platter. Finish with more salt, pepper, and a fine dusting of sumac. This makes a huge plate of salad, that serves 2 or 3. But I eat the entire thing myself.
I hope you didn’t allow the dressing and extracted liquid that pooled onto the bottom of the mixing bowl to just sit there. Hopefully you transferred all those liquid goods to the plate itself, as well. At the end of the salad, I tilt my neck back and shoot the astringent, and oily, and slightly sweet, and sour, residue. Right off the plate.
This salad travels nicely to lunch as well. Just bring all the simple components and combine them there. You do have to start the salad portion of lunch nearly 40 minutes before the meal actually occurs, though, or you’re doing it wrong.
