Peter Rabbit Lettuces
Call it global warming but the balmy, breezy English summers of yesteryear seem to have departed for more northern climes leaving southern Britain in the grip of a Mediterranean heat-wave. Not that I should complain, it was only a short month ago that we were wondering if we would have a summer at all, having survived one of the coldest winters in living memory.
But, needless to say, we are complaining, it’s HOT. Hot on the tube, hot in the shops and hot, hot, hot in the kitchen. And believe me, with the size of our kitchen, the temperature is probably pushing 40°c. So with cooking looking less appealing with every rising degree it is time to turn to salad and here is one English delicacy I am never tired of: a green and gentle lettuce.
A head of soft buttery lettuce (the ‘Peter Rabbit’ lettuces as I like to think of them) is a lovely thing. Not that I don’t like a bunch of rocket, some peppery watercress or spiky mizuna (and in fact these stronger-flavoured leaves seem more appropriate to this intense heat) but I have a soft-spot for an old fashioned blowsy lettuce of the kind that graced the soils of Victorian kitchen gardens. Today, in fact, lettuce growing is becoming very popular amongst home-gardeners although you need to be vigilant about keeping slugs and snails away – try anything you can bar resorting to environmentally unfriendly slug pellets.
And there is nothing better than selecting a lettuce for lunch fresh from the garden – this is one foodstuff that starts to lose its appeal from the moment of picking onwards. Once you have harvested your lettuce washing thoroughly is essential, hidden nasties do not for a pleasant lunch make. The easiest way to do this is in a sink or large bowl full of ice-cold water. Treat your leaves delicately, swishing each individual one around a bit, letting the dirt settle to the bottom of the bowl then removing to the salad spinner.
A salad spinner really is pretty essential equipment if you are a big lettuce eater as dressing won’t stick to wet leaves and in any case soggy salad is unpleasant; if you don’t have one pat them individually dry, gently (and laboriously) with kitchen towel or a clean tea towel.
Once clean and dry I find a simple, mild vinaigrette the most appropriate dressing for sweet lettuce leaves. A simple ratio of 1 part vinegar, lemon juice or verjuice to 3 parts olive oil, whisked in the salad bowl with a little ground sea-salt and pepper is pretty perfect (too sharp is fatal and overpowering so test and adjust accordingly.)
For a gentle flavouring of garlic, rub a cut clove around the edge of your salad bowl before putting the other vinaigrette ingredients in. I also very much like a herb dressing – these kinds of delicate lettuce leaves marry well with a scant teaspoon of finely chopped, similarly soft herbs such as tarragon, chives, and chervil.
Make the dressing in the salad bowl you are going to serve your lettuce in and gently toss the leaves with clean hands; this is a lovely sensual experience, particularly appropriate if you sown the seeds and grown the lettuce yourself. The perfect local, seasonal and sustainable lunch.
