If somebody is cooking for me, I honestly don’t care what they put on my plate. Sitting down to a meal cooked entirely by somebody else is the height of relaxation for me. I don’t want to be asked if I think the chicken is done or if it needs more salt (it does). I just want it placed in front of me with a glass of wine. Letting go and having no control over the preparation feels good.
The exception, however, is salad dressing. I have a hard time being a passive observer when it comes to salad dressing. When Amie, Carolyn and I lived in San Francisco we had one of those glass salad dressing containers and we would fill it with the packet of Italian spice mixture, oil and vinegar. Every night. The thought of having one more teaspoon of that overly-flavored concoction makes me gag. Why get good lettuce if you are going to drown it in bad dried oregano?
Have I converted you? Anyways, recently my mom made me dinner. I don’t even remember what it was to be honest because like I said, I don’t care as long as it’s made for me! What I do remember, however, was the salad dressing. It’s called Rose’s Vinaigrette after cookbook author Lucinda Scala Quinn’s mother I believe. I doubled the recipe and it’s been in my fridge all week. It has a few more ingredients than my standard vinaigrette but it’s awesome and works with everything.