A Circus in Your Mouth

The Simone Salad

I make salads that open your mind.

Last night it was: little gems, blackberries, dill, jalapeno, cucumber, feta, macadamia nuts, lime zest, lemon juice, EVOO, champagne vinegar, salt, and blackberry jam.

No two are the same. No two bites are either. The only constant is my soul. 

Brought together, the ingredients put on a show. A slow show, where forkfuls of textures and flavors build gradually. One bite and then the next. In each, a completely new taste is revealed. This bounty-in-a-bowl defies the logic of any salad you’ve had before. It’s a circus in your mouth, minus the animals. 

Welcome to the Simone Salad.

Fork poised, mid-chew, I hear, “Oh my god, what the fuck is in this!?” And so our conversation begins.

The answer to your question is everything and anything. A marriage between what’s in season, what I’ve found in my kitchen, and a kaleidoscope of ingredients that my imagination conjures. There is no prescription because Simone Salads are the antithesis of prescriptive.

Believe me, I did not set out to be good at this. Flavor mixing chose me. I don’t know how I became adept at scouring the produce aisles, rifling through my fridge, throwing open the pantry door, pulling drawers, twisting tops, wrapping my arms around bags and bunches, sweets and sours, the spicy and the raw. But I did.

At ten I became a vegetarian and vegetarians eat produce. I chop like it’s my job, cubing whole watermelons in minutes. And when I close my eyes, flavors talk to me. At the center of that Venn diagram is a salad, which as I said, chose me.

At gatherings, carnivores utter words they never thought they’d say, “Who made the salad?” But to call them salads is merely a title. They’re more like paintings, songs, or essays in a bowl. When I make them, I have no fear. I trust, I know. I am an artist.

How sweet that feeling! You know it, too. You are epic at something. Stop now, breathe, and consider—what do you do well, with ease and confidence, that blows people away? That’s one of your superpowers (and it can’t be weirder than salad-making)!

In closing, a serving of wisdom from my plate to yours. For an excellent salad every time, include a green, an herb, a fruit, a nut, and a cheese. If you’re vegan, do what you do. 

Dive into your spice drawer, your pantry, mix oils and vinegars, use potato chips and raw beets, celery and almonds, parsley and peas. Marry the dry and wet, crunchy and squishy. You must be free. There’s no wrong. 

Think in multiples. Lettuces, herbs, nuts, double up and play with varieties in a single salad. Please dry your lettuce. If you need fruit, dried berries work great. And on that topic, fruit salads are salads too. Avoid oranges, apples, and bananas in yours. It’s best to avoid grapes unless you’re very confident in your grape choice. Here’s why: Oranges are too watery. Apples must be just right and usually, they’re not. (Soak them in lime juice and they’re welcome! Bananas are too squishy and not exciting. (Papayas are squishy and exciting.)

Sample Simone Salads

#1: Butter lettuce, celery, radish, cilantro, basil, garlic, lemon zest, ginger, dried barberries, honey, fennel, pistachios, feta, snow peas, lemon juice, and apple.

#2: Little gems lettuce, cilantro, red cabbage, celery, arugula, corn, pasta, pesto, ginger, jalapeno, lemon, pistachios, salt, balsamic, feta, and lime zest.

#3: Kale, almonds, Greek yogurt, EVOO, lemon, lime zest, salt, dried cherries, basil, dill, and potato chips.

Good luck to you. I’m here for your questions and comments.