In the spring of 2004, I planted myself a mean garden. And boy howdy was I ever ambitious. Aside from over thirty tomato plants, I also planted red and green bell peppers, lettuces, cabbages, spinach, cucumbers, squash, and just about every herb under the sun: basil, cilantro, dill, fresh parsley…and a few things I couldn’t even pronounce. And sure, I was pregnant with my fourth baby at the time. And I was big. Reeeeal big. But my due date wasn’t ’til the middle of July and by then, I reckoned, I’d have gotten things in the garden well underway. I’d take oh, three to four days off to pop on over to the hospital and do my thing, then I’d be back squattin’ in my rows of vegetables in no time.
Then, on June 4, I went into pre-term labor, had an emergency cesarean, and spent the next two-plus weeks holed up in an NICU with my struggling little baby boy. And I had a wicked scar across my abdominal region, not to mention three other kids and a huge, ill-conceived garden at home. I couldn’t figure out what I was more worried about.
Marlboro Man rose to the occasion, at least where our other three children were concerned. He fed and bathed them, told them bedtime stories, and wiped their body parts for two straight weeks, God love him. And his mother, my beloved mother-in-law, stepped up to the plate and totally took care of my burgeoning garden, driving out to our place daily to water, weed, and harvest my vegetables as the need arose. I’ll never forget that as long as I live. Because the time I’d spent planning, cultivating, and planting that sucker? I would’ve packed it in and hung it up forever if it had all been for naught.
Weeks later, I was back at home and feeling sorry for myself, what with the massive scar that marred my gut and the now-thriving infant who was glued to my bosom 24/7, oh, and the other three sucklings who bit at my ankles on an hourly basis. I was deflated, defeated, and fat, and I opened up my bulging recipe binder, which has always been a source of escape for me, and found a recipe I’d printed out a few years before. I’d seen the dish on a BBC episode of The Naked Chef, and I’d always had it in my mind as something that might bring me happiness. And as I perused the recipe, I noticed that just about everything I needed for the salad was growing outside in my garden—the garden that was still thriving, no thanks to me. So I stood up, dislodged the suckling from my left teat, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and set out to make the salad. Something in my life had to give.
The result? It was a triumph. A total winner. An explosion of color, flavor, and texture, and guess what? It instantly lifted me out of the funk I was in. The next day, I started doing Pilates, dropped 25 pounds, and became a much more well-rounded, intelligent, successful and popular person. Well, not really on most of that stuff, but the salad, folks, is really that good.
I’ve adapted the original to meet my needs, and the beauty of this salad is, you can just wing it, adjusting the ingredients of the salad or the dressing as you like. And if I had any friends, I always thought a great idea for a luncheon would be to make the dressing, then assign all your buddies one item from the list of ingredients. Then when everyone shows, you just dump it all into a big bowl and go for it!
Someday, if I get some friends, I’m going to try that.
For now, though, I’m tickled to share it with you!
The Cast of Characters: Cooked linguine noodles (I use dry) and…Veggies! I use purple cabbage, scallions, various colors of bell peppers, hot (serrano) peppers, bean sprouts, lots of cilantro…
And that’s Napa Cabbage over on the left. I love Napa Cabbage. You can also use Romaine lettuce.
Oh, and spinach. Lots and lots of spinach.
So first, just start cutting up the veggies. And you can just use approximate quantities, using more of what you like most, or more of the colors you like.
To cut up the Napa cabbage, just slice it across the head.
I usually start with half a head and work my way up.
And if you’re saving the salad for later, just throw it in a Ziploc. And I seriously don’t know what is going on with my hand in this shot, but I’d like to assure all of you that I have not been stricken with a sudden case of gangrene. Or elephantiasis of the thumb. It must have something to do with the lighting in my kitchen. As far as you know.
Next, cut up the purple cabbage, which I think is an exceedingly beautiful addition to this salad, so please include it if at all possible.
Just cut up whatever quantity makes you happy…
And throw it in a separate bag.
Repeat with the bean sprouts. Wash ’em first.
And hey, I had some Romaine that was lonely and feeling left out. So I cut up some of that, too.
And now for the bell peppers: First, cut off the top…
Then reach in and rip out its innards.
Cut off the bottom, then slice the bell pepper in half from top to bottom. Then, slicing in the other direction, cut long, thin strips.
Repeat with the red pepper, and an orange if you can get your paws on one. I’ve never grown orange peppers, but Sam’s Club apparently knows someone who has.
Now slice up a few scallions—white, green, and all.
And this is important: Chop up LOTS and LOTS of cilantro. No need to mince it too finely; just give it a rough chop.
And baby spinach. Mmmmm…I use a lot of this. Wash and dry it first, of course.
Now! Set it all aside, set it in the fridge, whatever you want. But we’re just gettin’ warmed up here. It’s time to make the dressing, which really is the star of this dish.
The (Dressing’s) Cast of Characters: Olive Oil, soy sauce, sesame oil, lime juice, brown sugar, garlic, hot (serrano) peppers, fresh ginger, and even more cilantro! Cilantro is important in this recipe…or hadn’t you noticed?
Things this recipe can NOT do without: Olive oil, soy sauce, sesame oil, lime juice, brown sugar, garlic, fresh ginger, and cilantro. So basically, everything. Don’t leave anything out. Except the hot peppers. You can leave those out if you’re a pansy.
In a bowl (or a jar), add 8 tablespoons of Olive Oil.
Squeeze in the juice of 1 lime.
Add 8 tablespoons of soy sauce. (And if any of you wise guys are gonna tell me that 8 tablespoons equates to some other, easier measurement like 1/4 cup or 1/3 cup or something…yeah, well…you’re a wise guy.)
Now add 2 to 3 tablespoons of sesame oil, which is absolutely one of my favorite ingredients in all of Food Land. The flavor it brings to dishes is sublime. SUBLIME, I tell you!
What does sublime mean?
Now add in 1/3 cup packed brown sugar. The sugar is really essential in this dressing, because the salty soy sauce and acidic lime juice really need a balance. Often I’ll add more brown sugar at the end if the dressing needs a little more sweetness.
Chop up 2 cloves of garlic and add it into the bowl.
And now it’s time to chop up some ginger, which is another one of those SUBLIME ingredients in the food chain of the life of the world of the universe. DadGUM, do I love fresh ginger. And here’s how you chop it:
Just lop off one of the pieces…
Then stand it on its side and with a sharp knife, slice off the tough exterior. Discard that part.
Then lay it on its side and cut it into strips.
Next, cut the strips in the opposite direction…
And keep chopping until the ginger is minced. You’ll need about 3 generous tablespoons of the heavenly stuff.
Add it into the dressing…
And whisk away! It’ll be a little thick because of the brown sugar, but thick is good. Thick is real, real good.
Now, this is optional, but I think it really adds something to the mix. Seed, then cut a hot pepper (I use Serrano, but a jalapeno would work, too) into strips.
Then rotate the strips 90 degrees and slice in the opposite direction to chop it up. Use as much as you’d like; I use 1 to 2 peppers, total. But you might want to go easy if you’re of the pansy persuasion. Add it into the dressing.
And finally: more cilantro goodness. And I’ll tell you right now, if you’re among the small percentage of hom*o sapiens that can’t tolerate the flavor of cilantro, you might wanna cook something else tonight. Oh, and I’m sorry for your loss.
Add a bunch into the dressing, and stir together. (IMPORTANT: If you’re making the dressing ahead of time, do not add the cilantro. I just make the dressing, keep it in a jar, then throw in the cilantro at the last minute and give it a good shake. If you add the cilantro ahead of time, it’ll be a wilty mess. And you’ll never, ever forgive yourself. Ever.)
Now. Let the fun…BEGIN!
Add the cold noodles to a large bowl…
Then throw in the other ingredients one by one: cabbages, spinach…
Pretty bell peppers…
Bean sprouts…
And Cilantro. Isn’t this pretty?
Now pour on the delicious dressing.
To say this dressing is flavorful is like saying an orchid is a flower.
Wait. That was, like, the worst analogy I’ve ever come up with. What I’m trying to say is, this dressing has to be tasted to be believed. And it doesn’t have orchids in it.
Oops! Almost forgot the baby spinach. It’s an essential ingredient, too.
Now just toss it all together gently. I use tongs. Sometimes I use my hands.
Just make sure everything’s adequately coated. And the cool thing is, if the salad seems a little dry, just mix up a little of the wet ingredients of the dressing and throw it in. It’s a very organic process.
Now grab a nice, big platter. There’s nothing more hopeful than a nice, big platter.
And just pour it right on. Oh, baby. Oh. My. Gracious. Baby. Love. Of. My. Heart.
It has to be said that there’s no butter in this salad. And that Marlboro Man wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.
But that’s okay…
Because that leaves more for me. And I’ll take all of this salad I can get. It’s really and truly…sublime.
