Dahlia loves salad more than almost any food, desserts excepted. This means that aside from the marshmallows on the sweet potatoes, salad is her favorite part of Thanksgiving, when she eats mounds of it.
There’s only one thing about Dahlia’s salad-eating that gives me pause. When she was a toddler, I encouraged her to eat salad with her fingers. It was easier for her. I’d also once read an article that said chef Alice Waters always ate salad with her hands. What’s good enough for Alice’s salad, I thought, is good enough for Dahlia’s.
But the habit stuck. Now she’s 10, and it’s nearly impossible to get her to use a fork. Even in restaurants. Even at the Thanksgiving table surrounded by all her utensil-wielding relatives.
The way Dahlia feels about salad is the way I feel about anchovies. I’m apt to sneak a few into salad dressings, which is what I’ve done here, puréeing them with garlic and parsley to toss with arugula. They add depth, but in a subtle, child-friendly way. Dahlia, who thinks she hates anchovies, doesn’t even know they are there.
Because we’re a family with Francophile inclinations, we serve our salad at the end of the Thanksgiving meal, just before the dishes are cleared. That way, we can use the leaves to dab at the last slicks of gravy and bits of stuffing. It makes a tangy plate cleaner and palate cleanser before the pie – for which even Dahlia uses a fork.