A pleasingly retro salad with a tangy salad cream that you’ll possibly want to make on repeat … on repeat
I was fortunate enough to be one of the thousands of children taught and cared for by Mrs Megan Williams at Batford nursery school in the late 1970s. I like to think I can remember her voice; I can certainly picture the way her eyes (behind large glasses) and the whole of her long body moved when she told stories, all of us sitting on a square of carpet in the corner of the room. I also remember how she would encourage us to say words we liked several times, enjoying the feel of every letter, tadpole-tadpole-tadpole, raspberry-raspberry-raspberry, mud-mud-mud. A few years later, another teacher introduced me to the idea that any word, even the most tedious, said enough times, becomes incredibly funny. Then, even more years later, when I was at drama school and overthinking every word and phrase, these two bits of advice met and became one: top-full of direst cruelty … top-full of direst cruelty …top-full of direst cruelty.
These days, I am more interested in being Eliza Acton than Lady Macbeth, therefore salad cream … salad cream … salad cream; beautiful, funny, and delicious, both slapped from a bottle and homemade. Although more correctly, Eliza calls it “English sauce for salad” in Modern Cookery for Private Families, which was first published in 1845. Sauce for salad of course requires salad, and what better than a salad from my 1970s childhood: butterhead lettuce, radish and egg?
Continue reading… A pleasingly retro salad with a tangy salad cream that you’ll possibly want to make on repeat … on repeatI was fortunate enough to be one of the thousands of children taught and cared for by Mrs Megan Williams at Batford nursery school in the late 1970s. I like to think I can remember her voice; I can certainly picture the way her eyes (behind large glasses) and the whole of her long body moved when she told stories, all of us sitting on a square of carpet in the corner of the room. I also remember how she would encourage us to say words we liked several times, enjoying the feel of every letter, tadpole-tadpole-tadpole, raspberry-raspberry-raspberry, mud-mud-mud. A few years later, another teacher introduced me to the idea that any word, even the most tedious, said enough times, becomes incredibly funny. Then, even more years later, when I was at drama school and overthinking every word and phrase, these two bits of advice met and became one: top-full of direst cruelty … top-full of direst cruelty …top-full of direst cruelty.These days, I am more interested in being Eliza Acton than Lady Macbeth, therefore salad cream … salad cream … salad cream; beautiful, funny, and delicious, both slapped from a bottle and homemade. Although more correctly, Eliza calls it “English sauce for salad” in Modern Cookery for Private Families, which was first published in 1845. Sauce for salad of course requires salad, and what better than a salad from my 1970s childhood: butterhead lettuce, radish and egg? Continue reading… Salad, Food, Italian food and drink, Vegetables, Sauces and gravies
