the first time i made salad monique was the summer i'd graduated from connecticut college, packed my bags, moved back to california, and decided to turn my lifelong love of cooking into some kind of career. those big things happened, but it was the salad that changed me.
eric ripert of le bernadin in nyc had just released his massive, gorgeous tome a return to cooking. i somehow scraped together $50 from my humble kitchen internship pay and bought the book, so sacred it even came in shrink wrap. every night i studied its pages. robust, glorious paintings of green papayas and wine bottles followed elegant recipe after recipe for things like poached snapper with coconut milk and tomatoes or freshly cut mangoes for dessert, tousled with puerto rican tarragon and a splash of anisette.
i was unsure of myself in those days, so it was a straightforward recipe for his french mother's salad that i attempted first. it called for nearly every vegetable that i knew about: asparagus, green beans, corn, avocadoes, and cherry tomatoes among them. it also called for blanching many of the vegetables in three big pots of water. determined nevertheless, i set out for chino's farm in rancho santa fe, and spent the rest of my savings on vegetables.
my best friend was housesitting nearby, and i met her there with my produce bags. she'd agreed to help me on my salad monique endeavor, and then i would have someone to ooh and ahh the final results, pat me on the back and tell me i was destined for chefdom. i labored over each vegetable like it was a fabrege egg. somewhere along the way, i got the idea that the salad would be nice with warm goat cheese toasts (though undaring, i still never failed to make nice, simple things more complicated than they needed to be). it was one of the few tasks i relinquished to my friend and in the midst of our chatting, they were burned. instead of shrugging it off and serving salad monique the way ripert and his mother intended, i lost my mind, and nearly lost my friendship. over a salad.
cooking with a perfectionist can have its merits--most dishes will come out lovely. but it isn't any fun. i know this because i am a recovering uptight cook who has scared a number of well-intentioned friends out of my kitchen with my high levels of anxiety and micro-managing. staring over shoulders as eggs are cracked and carefully demonstrating how vegetables should be cut is a sure-fire way to ensure you will always cook alone.
not despite, but because of my first awful and valuable experience with salad monique, it is my favorite salad of all time. a tangle of every color and texture, it is as tantalizing to look at on a bright white plate as it from the first bite to the last. i make it as many times as possible each year, with great care, but also a light heart. when it comes to cooking, knowing when to let go is as important as salt.
salad monique
serves 6
1/4 pound french green beans, ends trimmed
1/4 asparagus, touch ends removed, cut in 2 inch lengths
2 ears of corn, shucked
1/2 pound mesclun greens
1/4 hothouse cucumber (or 1 persian cucumber), cut lengthwise in half and thinly sliced
18 cherry tomatoes, halved
2 radishes, thinly sliced
1 avocado, thinly sliced
1 apple, cored and thinly sliced
2 tablespoons aged balsamic vinegar
6 tablespoons high quality extra virgin olive oil
kosher salt, sea salt and freshly ground pepper
1/4 pound parmigiano-reggiano cheese
place a large pot of water over high heat and bring to a boil. while the water boils, set up two ice baths in large bowls. once the water is boiling, add a palmful of kosher salt. drop the 2 ears of corn in the water and cook for 3 - 4 minutes. immediately remove the corn using tongs and plunge into one of the ice baths.
return the water to a boil and add the green beans, cooking until tender but crisp, about 3 minutes. scoop the beans out of the boiling water using a basket spoon or slotted spoon, and plunge into the other ice bath. add the asparagus to the boiling water and cook until tender but crisp, 2 - 3 minutes, depending on the width of the asparagus. drain the asparagus in a colander and immediately plunge the asparagus into the ice bath with the beans.
dry the corn, aspargus and green beans on clean kitchen towels. cut the kernels off the cobs.
place the balsamic vinegar into a medium bowl and slowly whisk in the olive oil.
place the greens and all of the vegetables and fruit into a large bowl. drizzle the balsamic dressing over everything and season with sea salt and pepper. toss to coat. divide the salad equally among 6 chilled plates and shave the parmesan (if using) over the top using a vegetable peeler. serve immediately.
notes
* adapted from eric ripert, a return to cooking. purchase the book here. i am sorry to report it is no longer published as a hardcover.
* eric's mother includes boiled new potatoes with her salad, making it more of an entree. feel free to do this. it is delicious.
* the perfectionist in me urges you to make this salad with the most pristine, highest-quality ingredients you can find.