The other day I was talking with Romeo Taus, owner of Romeo’s Euro Café, about his notorious policy of no substitutions. (He is not unyielding, by the way, but does wish people would give the food a chance first.)
Romeo used his salads as an example. He creates a salad and the dressings so that all of the flavors meld together in harmony. Certain items might add a little liquid to the mix; others might provide balance to the tang of the vinegar in the dressing. So if a customer asks for something to be left out, or for the dressing on the side, it can throw off the whole thing. Kind of like going to a concert, but the bass player didn’t show up and they play anyway.
I sympathize with Romeo. It must be tough to laboriously slave over a dish until you think you’ve achieved perfection with it, and then some picky bastard comes in and messes everything up.
On the other hand, Romeo and a few others aside, there’s an epidemic in our kitchens of cooks over-dressing salads until they’re gloppy messes. I had to laugh while watching Hell’s Kitchen last night (OK, you got me; guilty pleasure) when one of the newbies slathered poor Romaine leaves with a gooey Caesar, and Chef Ramsey had a fit.
My husband always orders dressing on the side for that very reason. He doesn’t care for vinegar to begin with, but can abide a small amount. If a salad is drowning in it, he is repulsed. Even if he likes the dressing, he abhors an over-abundance of it, preferring to taste the lettuce and ingredients.
I’m more in the Romeo camp. I want my salad dressed and tossed with flavors fully integrated the way the chef intended. But you can’t douse the poor thing, OK? Lettuce is delicate. So are my taste buds. Go easy.
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