The Salad I Tried to Ignore
Some recipes don’t sound fancy — but they stick with you for life. Every family has that one side dish you don’t think you’ll miss until it’s gone.
For me, it was the puckery iceberg salad my Cuban mother made with almost every meal.
It was simple: a head of iceberg, chopped or just torn by hand. Sometimes rings of thick white onions. Always a heavy pour of plain white vinegar, a glug of Goya olive oil. Salt, pepper, maybe a squeeze of lime if she felt like showing off. That was it.
The Bite I Rushed Through
As a kid, I hated it. The vinegar made my mouth pucker so hard I’d rush through it, push it aside, or try to bury it under whatever else was on the plate. But now I see what it did. That sharp acid cut through the beans and rice, the starchy sides, the heavy meat. It made the meal feel whole.
It’s funny how the dishes you swear you’ll forget end up tattooed in your memory. That salad showed up so many nights I lost count. It was cheap, it was humble, and it worked. That’s why it stuck with me.
How I Make It Now
These days I dress it up. I’ll reach for sherry or champagne vinegar, whisk in a little honey, maybe scatter in some basil or tarragon from the garden. Sometimes I mix in softer lettuces, maybe some nuts from the pantry, but I keep the spirit the same: crunchy, vinegary, no apologies.
Here’s how I do it now:
-
Roughly chop a head of iceberg or mix it with other lettuces.
-
Whisk ¼ cup good vinegar (sherry or champagne) with salt, pepper, and a teaspoon of honey.
-
Slowly drizzle in ¼ cup good olive oil while whisking.
-
Toss with the lettuce right before serving. Finish with cracked black pepper.
And if you want it just like my mom made it? Forget the fancy vinegar. Grab the white vinegar. Use plenty. Pucker up.
Why It Matters
It didn’t look like much back then. It didn’t even taste that great to me as a kid. But years later, it’s the dish that pulls me straight back to our table in N.J. Sometimes the humblest food is the one that tells you exactly where you came from.
