Mike Devlin On The Real Definition of a Salad — And Why Chocolate Qualifies

You think you know, don't you? Actually, you know you know. Trouble is, you are completely wrong — because what you will say fits the primary definition in the dictionary. But fear not, because by the end you will happily listen to every single word I say, and you will be able to use it as a defence. Trust me.

'Usually defined as a dish of raw leafy greens (like lettuce) or other raw vegetables, typically served with a dressing.'

That's what you think a salad is. I know what you're thinking here: he's a chef, so he's going to get all cheffy about this. And you'd be right, to a point, because culinarily speaking, a salad is leafy greens (the base), vegetables, protein, or grains (the body), and a liquid for flavour (the dressing).

Doesn't sound too far off the dictionary, does it, with the addition of something to fill it out, of course. But the differences do not end there: salads do not necessarily have to be cold. Warm (wilted) salads are popular throughout the world, and the majority of you are not going to complain if there are hot crispy bacon bits and tender chicken scattered through one, with a dressing made from hot rendered bacon fat. No, I didn't think so.

A roasted vegetable medley straight out of the oven is a salad. Just because the likes of onion, tomato, peppers, and garlic are all cooked and hot is no different to serving the exact same thing raw and cold. A salad is a salad.

A potato salad is fully cold, but there is a German version that is hot. The Moroccan Zaalouk is a hot aubergine (eggplant) with tomatoes and garlic served with olive oil.

And it is the dressing that seems to be the one common denominator: a bowl of cooked carrots is a hot vegetable side dish, but toss them in olive oil, for example, with cumin seeds and serve them on a bed of rocket leaves (rucola), and you have yourself a salad.

Let's make this far more complicated than is really necessary. The word salad comes from the Latin word salata, which comes from the past participle salare. Of course, all this ties in with the word salary, which means salt. Basically, salad means salted things.

Now a piece of pork can, and usually is, salted — but a salad it is not, so what gives?

Romans made tough raw vegetables palatable by salting them with raw salt, brining them, or using a fish sauce. The original salad was named herba salata, which literally means salted vegetables.

Today we often change the name of things to avoid confusion, and it was no different a couple of thousand years ago. Meat and fish are salted, but everyone knew they were not the same thing, so new words came about that were derivations of the original salata. Salsicius, which we now know as sausage, means 'prepared with salt', for example.

But here's the irony: modern salads are not salted — or at least not like in Roman times, with maybe just a pinch (naked salads are a big no-no) — as we tend to use oils and acids.

However, we do need to stop off at the 17th and 18th centuries for a moment to introduce you to salmagundi. This was an English salad served with — yup — salted pork, and if that wasn't enough, they would throw in some anchovies, too. Sure, a dressing of oil and vinegar was there, but this dish took the salata to its fullest and just ran with it.

And if you think we have made it complicated enough, well, to that I say tish and fipsy, because…

Bound salads are a thing — they are a standalone salad subcategory — which consist of a 'glue' (no, not the non-toxic kind you let your children use in arts and crafts, just in case they eat some), which is a thick binding agent. You've probably had one, and we've already mentioned it.

Yeah, potato salad. That's a bound salad, whereby the mayonnaise holds everything together, although it could be sour cream, yogurt, or a viscous vinaigrette. To get these salads right, the 'glue' must be just enough, there must be crisp raw vegetables added for texture, and the addition of an acid to cut through the fat.

But how did we get from leafy greens to a congealed mess — and have both be salads? In the 18th century in France and England, it became common to use up expensive leftovers with greens, herbs, oil, and vinegar, tossed together: a meat salad. Then in the 19th century, mayonnaise became a status symbol, creating quick cold lunches.

You can probably get on board with this, but then the 1960s happened and honestly didn't care what you thought, as viscous vinaigrettes and mayonnaise went out the window and were replaced by aspic and gelatine.

If one can make a big mess using mayonnaise as a way to pull everything together and call it a salad, then why not jelly/jello? Told you the '60s didn't care.

If all of this hasn't convinced you, then allow me to throw some legalese your way. See that tuna mayo? If you put it on a plate on a bed of leaves, it becomes a salad — whereas without those greens, it isn't.

Yup, that's right. All those times your mother told you to eat more salads, all you had to do was drop in half a lettuce leaf, and legally you are eating a salad, irrespective of what's actually on your plate. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I promise to make it up to you.

And I will make it up to you right now, for we are about to dive into all things botanical, which will allow you to legally eat cream and chocolate as a salad. No, I am not joking.

Many vegetables — cucumbers and tomatoes, for example — are actually fruits. And fruits are actually flowers, and some vegetables — like broccoli and cauliflower — are also flowers. Stick with me here, because this can all be backed up.

If vegetables that are fruits, or flowers, can go in a salad, then fruits that are flowers — like oranges and melons — can be used instead. And if you wish to make a bound salad, then double cream is perfect for the job. On top of that, chocolate can be acidic (and has a different texture), so that, too, can be used, as can a liqueur as a dressing.

Macédoine is a French term: a salad of small, cubed cuts of vegetables or fruit, served with a binding agent to create Macédoine de fruits.

So there you have it. The culinary definition of a salad … just with lots of sugar, cream, chocolate, and alcohol.

I am just too good to you, aren't I?