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Butter lettuce, cool cucumber, peppery radishes, and the sharp bite of English mustard dressing. A July salad that belongs on the table next to whatever else you're having tonight.
The garden is doing what it does in July: producing more than you planned for. The lettuce has bolted twice already but there's a new head of butter lettuce that's just right, pale and soft, the leaves cupped like hands. The radishes pulled this morning are still cold from the soil. The cucumber doesn't need much. Neither does any of this.
A salad like this is barely a recipe. It's an assembly. But the dressing is where the quiet work happens, and English mustard is the thing that makes it distinctly ours. Not Dijon, not wholegrain, not anything polite. Colman's, from the tin if you've got it, mixed to a paste that clears the sinuses and makes the back of your throat pay attention. Tamed with a little vinegar, a touch of honey, and enough good oil to bring it all into line. It's sharp, warm, and entirely honest.
I make this salad from May through to September, adjusting as the weeks go by. Early summer gets the first radishes and spring onions. High summer brings the cucumbers and whatever herbs are sprawling across the path. The dressing stays the same. The market decides the rest. We're only making dinner.
Put this next to a piece of grilled fish, beside a chicken that's just come off the barbecue, or on its own with some bread and cheese on a warm evening when cooking feels like too much and eating in the garden feels like exactly enough.
Quantity
2 heads
leaves separated and washed
Quantity
1
halved lengthways and sliced
Quantity
1 bunch
trimmed and thinly sliced
Quantity
4
trimmed and finely sliced
Quantity
small handful
chives, dill, or flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
4 tablespoons
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| butter lettuceleaves separated and washed | 2 heads |
| cucumberhalved lengthways and sliced | 1 |
| radishestrimmed and thinly sliced | 1 bunch |
| spring onionstrimmed and finely sliced | 4 |
| soft herbs (optional)chives, dill, or flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped | small handful |
| English mustard | 1 tablespoon |
| white wine vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| runny honey | 1 teaspoon |
| good olive oil | 4 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
Put the mustard, vinegar, honey, and a good pinch of salt into a small jar or bowl. Stir until the mustard dissolves and the honey loosens. Pour in the olive oil and shake or whisk until it comes together into something thick and emulsified, the colour of pale gold. Taste it. It should be sharp first, then warm from the mustard, with just enough sweetness to take the edge off. Adjust as you see fit. More vinegar if it's too mild. More oil if it bites too hard. This is your dressing for the next few days if you make enough.
Keep the lettuce leaves whole if they're small, torn in half if they're large. You want pieces you can pick up with your fingers, not shreds. Slice the cucumber into half-moons, not too thin. The radishes should be sliced finely enough to see light through them. Scatter the spring onions and tear any herbs over the top. All of this can sit in a wide bowl, loosely arranged, waiting for the dressing.
Pour the vinaigrette over the salad just before you sit down. Not before. Use your hands to turn everything through the dressing, gently, so every leaf is glossed but nothing is drowned. You want the lettuce to glisten, not swim. Season with a little more salt and a grind of black pepper. Bring the bowl to the table and let people help themselves. That's it. That's the whole thing.
1 serving (about 240g)
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