Remember the part in 'I Love You, Man' where the hapless, gynocentric Paul Rudd explains to the (implausibly) bro-ish Jason Segel that the best night he'd had in years was when he and his fiancee made a summer salad, split a bottle of wine and watched 'Chocolat'? Yeah, I did that the other night, which is kind of gross and faux-grown up and too middle class to function. But it's so hot, and everyone on the tram looks like they've been punched on the stomach, and the idea of turning on the stove makes me nauseous. So salad it is. And I did turn on the stove. But only a little.
But let's be honest, most green salads are kind of forgettable. I'd really like to know who made tough, gritty bagged rocket so ubiquitous in unoriginal cafes everywhere, because it seems I can't order anything without a tangle of the stuff sitting inedibly on top or alongside whatever I actually wanted to eat. Baby spinach is fine, I guess, if a little dull. Most lettuces, even the crumpled hydroponic kind, are tasteless, save for a faint tang of chlorine. Not to mention covered in snail poo, which is revolting, dirt always clings despite the most vigorous rinsing. Besides, the cat managed to break my salad spinner during one of his skirmishes on the kitchen cupboards. I prefer my greens dark, adult and cooked. I like grown-ass spinach, turned in a pan with too much garlic, with a poached egg on top. I like kale any way you choose to serve it, but especially baked in a gruyere-spiked bechamel with pasta or barley or whatever grainy thing waƒs in the kitchen. Have you ever tried sprinkling a couple of tablespoons of sherry into the pan with silverbeet as it cooking? Seriously, try it.
But still, Paul Rudd and his vision of a pleasant middle class evening lingered, and I found this green bean on Heidi's eternally useful 101 Cookbooks. I couldn't bring myself to buy an entire head of frisee for two people, so I tried a couple of handfuls of mizuna, which may be my new favourite salad green as it is mildly spicy and, best of all, actually tender and pleasant. The green beans are sweet and substantial enough to justify turning on the one burner, but it's the creamy thyme-spiked dressing that really makes this salad a dinner instead of a chore.
Green bean salad
adapted from 101 Cookbooks, serves 2
- 2-3 handfuls of green beans, stem ends snapped
- 1/2 bunch of chives, finely chopped
- 2-3 stalks thyme, leaves removed and finely chopped
- A shallot, finely chopped
- 1/2 a lemon, juiced
- 2 tbsp cream
- Scant 1/4 cup olive oil
- 1/3 cup hazelnuts
- Handful of cherry tomatoes, halved
- Handful of whichever salad green speaks to you/is available
Toast the hazelnuts in a dry frypan until the kitchen smells good. Tip into a plastic bag and whack a few times with a rolling pin until the nuts are very coarsely crushed. Whisk together chives, thyme, shallot, cream and a little salt and pepper in small bowl. Gradually whisk in the olive oil.
Bring a small pan of salted water to boil. Cook the beans until bright green. Drain and quickly rinse with cold water.
Toss beans, greens, hazelnuts and tomatoes in a large bowl. Add as much dressing as you feel it needs. I wound up using it all, but YMMV. We ate it slumped, sweaty, on the couch, with a few episodes of '
The Jersey Shore' for company.