The Flower of Bleak Mid-Winter

This is the time of year that many of us love to hate: Christmas is long over, and while the calendar is spotted with the odd holiday Monday, most of us (at least in New England) spend the weeks from now until early March grumbling over the grayness. Everything feels dead; the trees are bare, the roads are icy, and the garden is asleep. This is probably why the seed companies send out their catalogs right around the time that we all start resembling Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

I’ve made a recent commitment to myself to try, even now, to eat as locally and seasonally as I can. Which means, in my neck of the woods, that I’m faced with, as my grandmother would say, bupkus (loosely translating to goat s**t). If I eat one more squash, it’s going to come out my ears. Although we don’t belong to a CSA (we can’t; there aren’t any near where we live), and although our two local farmer’s markets have been shuttered since October (what is that about? why can my friends in Maine still shop for fresh produce in mid-winter while I have to go out of my way to avoid my local fluorescent-lit supermarket), we’ve recently discovered a nearby food store that still manages to provide some pretty spectacular seasonal goods, like hearty greenhouse-grown greens, and gorgeous, local garlic of all kinds. And in my house, where there is garlic, there is, always and forever, Kathy and Veet’s Garlic Salad.

Almost thirty years ago, Susan spent her weekends visiting friends in upstate New York; Kathy and Veet left city life behind, and put down rural roots for themselves and their small family, which included a hideously nasty goat named Jodie, and two sheep, called Dot and Spot. Money was scarce, and when it came time to make a salad for dinner, they grabbed whatever was growing abundantly in their garden: radishes, carrots, pole beans, greens of every and any type–but always spicy mustard greens–and garlic. A lot of garlic. Combined with a splash of cider vinegar, olive oil, and a heavy dusting of freshly grated cheese (sometimes Parmigiana, sometimes aged goat, sometimes sheep), the resulting salad is an incomparable blend of flavor and texture, raw spice, heat, and sometimes, sweetness (depending on the season). And in the depths of winter, this is the salad I want, as often as possible.

Kathy and Veet’s garlic salad–created out of necessity at a time in the 1970s when gas lines were long and cars were enormous, politics were vicious, and the economic environment was hideous–conjures up a fragrant, green oasis in the midst of chaos, which is why they moved to the country to begin with. We have no idea where they are, but their salad lives on in our home and the homes of our friends, all year round–even in the dead of winter.

The proportions here are embarrassingly flexible and in truth, the salad rarely comes out the same way twice. In our experience, much depends upon the quality of cider vinegar you use, the freshness of your greens, and whether or not you use white, grocery-store garlic, which will yield a much more pungent, biting flavor, while larger, local garlic generally is sweeter and nuttier.

Serves 4-6 garlic and greens-lovers

1 small bunch Romaine lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces

1 small head red or green leaf lettuce (or other, heartier lettuce), torn into bite-sized pieces

6-8 Mustard green leaves (depending on your heat tolerance), torn into bite-sized pieces

4-6 cloves fresh garlic, peeled

1-2 cups blended chopped fresh tomatoes, cucumber, snap peas, carrots, radishes, in any combination*

2-1/2 tablespoons cider vinegar

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmigiana

salt and pepper, to taste

1. Toss greens together in a large wooden salad bowl. Using a garlic press, crush the garlic directly over the greens, add the remaining vegetables (if any) and toss well.

2. Drizzle on the vinegar, and toss. Drizzle on the olive oil, and toss. Sprinkle on the cheese, toss again, and add salt and pepper, if you must.

* During winter months, these additions are omitted unless we’re lucky enough to find fresh carrots and radishes locally.