Salad Niçoise: An Ode

Guest written by manager Becca Evanhoe



For months, I've been trying to convince Chef Brian Strecker to put a salad niçoise on the menu. I suggested. I strongly suggested. I asked politely. I asked with authority. I pleaded. On occassion I demanded. (Brian put up with my hounding, but alas, no salad niçoise appeared on the new spring lunch or dinner menu.

What's the big deal about a salad niçoise? Why my obsession?

First, understand this: salad niçoise is the perfect salad. “Niçoise” refers to Nice, a coastal French city, where the salad originated. There are hundreds of variations, but a typical one contains greens, often tossed with fresh herbs; fresh haricots verts (thin green beans); sliced hard-boiled egg; boiled new potatoes; tuna, anchovies or sardines; black olives; sometimes finely chopped shallots, and occassionaly tomatoes. Tastewise, it's got fresh produce; rich, satisfying proteins; nice starchy potatoes; salty moments from anchovies and olives, and a refreshing salad dressing (a basic vinaigrette, usually). It's light and filling.

And the other contributing factor to my fascination with this salad has to do with nostalgia. Six years ago, I was lucky enough to spend three weeks traveling along the Mediterranean coast of France. While there, I tried enough of these salads to become an expert. Here is an excerpt from the journal that I kept on the trip:

"Lunch: Cassis white wine... the salad niçoise of my dreams: salty, black olives, fresh green lettuces, haricots verts, mealy boilet potatoes, briny anchovies, tomato wedges, fresh tuna, a star of perfect boiled egg on top, a subtle mustardy, vinegar-y dressing... so perfect. A eaten about 300 m from the beach, 10 ft from the harbor, palm trees, boats, clouds and sun peeking out, framed by mountains... best lunch I've ever had."

But back to the present. Yesterday, it finally happened. For a dinner special, Brian created a Pachamama's take on salad niçoise. He layered fried potatoes, caper aioli, asparagus (in lieu of haricots verts), egg, and tuna together. Not just any tuna, though. He used olive-oil poached tuna, which means it’s slowly cooked in lots of olive oil; the olive oil “simmers,” but doesn’t fry the fish. The result is incredibly moist, tender tuna. After you try olive-oil poached tuna, you won’t ever want to see a can of tuna again.

This is one of those meals that’s powerful recalling to me; eating a well-prepared salad niçoise takes back me to one of the most exciting times of my life.

Look at the beautiful pepper sprinkled across the eggs! Look at that shiny green aspsaragus (which, I assure you, was perfectly cooked. Done all the way through, and crisp.) The beautiful brown color and texture of the fried potato rounds.

In this photo, you can see the olive-oil poached tuna peeking out.



I call this shot Salad Niçoise in the Afternoon. (Photo taken by Stephanie Bell.)