House Dressing

I was recently reading an article in a trade mag which gave pointers on setting up the perfect, trendy bar. The focus was mostly on decor and good staff and what not, but one tip stood out: develop a house cocktail. That's brilliant. A simple, eponymous, concoction that people will remember you for. While I'm not exactly in the business of making drinks (consuming them is more my style), it got me thinking. What's the kitchen equivalent? Signature dishes aren't exactly it... that's a level above. I'm thinking of some sort of flavor shorthand; a little, punchy bite that says: “Damn, I'm good.” A great house dressing is the sort of thing I have in mind. This, in turn, has got me thinking about the house dressing at a little Italian dive in my college town, which was nothing short of legendary.



The dressing at this unnamed eatery (no names, they might be the suin' type) was a cheese and garlic affair that most people I know who've sampled can't quite dislodge from their culinary memory. It is the singular flavor the entire business is built around – appearing on salads and sandwiches and even pastas – and has been for the better part of the past couple of decades. Which is exactly what you want, I suppose, when it comes to the longevity of a business. Regardless of what features on the menu at this particular establishment, as long as the dressing remains, the customers will come.

My problem is I can't imagine sticking with one flavor for longer than a month or two. Beyond that and I become bored. Making the same dressing for 17 years is not an idea I can really fathom. I get bored with cooking the same food after a week or two. That's why my specials board is where I spend most of my attention. I'm not happy cooking the same food over and over for more than a few days at a time. Changing it up thus is the only way to keep interested in a job which is repetitive by nature. Many who do not understand this concept of variation of repetition do not last in th industry. And the phenomenon is not restricted only to professional cooks, but, by tangential association, to ingredients as well.

The ever-changing fashions in cooking, which I have mentioned before, are no different to any other trade or movement. They are broad, sweepingly dismissive, and are characterized by the momentary exultation of a singular concept, for no discernible reason, over all others. Professional cookery is, as I have often pointed out, no different to any other industry known to man; that is: subject to the whims of taste.



This means that when I try to balance my perpetually-evolving specials board with the shifting sands of culinary fashion, I often have to omit common foodstuffs which are no longer in popular favor.

Iceberg lettuce, is, arguably, the poster child for just such an occurrence. It has fallen so far from the prominence it once held in the cookery of my youth it is all but been abandoned as a food source. I remember a time when iceberg was the only lettuce, with the possible exception of romaine (called cos, here Down Under) which we all know is only a elongated version of the same.

Now, try and sell iceberg on your menu and see what happens. Nothing happens, is what. I know, my side salad of iceberg, soft boiled eggs, and herb dressing attracts few takers, even though it is my favorite item on the menu.

I don't really understand this. Iceberg is a great lettuce. Sweet and cool by nature it is light when shredded yet compact enough to hold it's shape when cut. You want to serve a cube of lettuce? Only iceberg makes this possible (when you cut iceberg into a shape, it stays that shape; try that with any other lettuce). Need to crisp up a sandwich? Consider iceberg. What should you serve with the dry-aged, rare-roast, Angus rib eye for two? Iceberg (with a blue cheese dressing).

Only no one will order any of those things. Iceberg is decidedly out of fashion.

So, it is via two separate paths by which I come to the topic of today's post. I give you my interpretation of the house dressing of my former, college haunt, skewed by memory and all (and without the dried herbs), on a salad made solely of the best lettuce grown by man. Get in quick; I'll be tired of this shortly.



Iceberg Salad with House Dressing

Ok. I can admit that, given as a menu choice, I would not go out of my way to order this at all, based on the description alone. However, it is exactly the sort of food I want to eat.

½ head iceberg, rinsed and torn into chunks by hand. Dressed with below.

House Dressing

300 ml vegetable oil
1 head garlic, roasted*
½ bunch chives
½ bunch tarragon, leaves only
100g grated parmesan cheese
60 ml white wine vinegar

In a blender or food processor, mix the oil, garlic squeezed from its skins, herbs and cheese. Add the vinegar, pulse, adjust seasoning to taste and serve on hand-torn iceberg.

*To roast the head of garlic: Heat the oven to 200ºC. Cut the top from the head of garlic, exposing the cloves. Sprinkle with salt and oil, wrap in foil, and roast until soft and golden. 45-60 min.



Perfect garlic is roasted until just sweet but not burnt (bitter). Color is a good indicator; deeply golden roasted garlic is often sweetest. Sublimely roasted garlic exhibits not only great color, aroma, and flavor, but hair-like filaments when freed from it's foil wrapper; indicating the inherent sugars have been caramelized in the optimal manner. The tiny fibres, if you produce them, are spun garlic sugar: natural sugars perfectly caramelized.