A Big Little Recipe has the smallest-possible ingredient list and big everything else—flavor, creativity, wow factor. Psst: We don't count water, salt, black pepper, and certain fats (specifically, 1/2 cup or less of olive oil, vegetable oil, and butter), since we're guessing you have those covered. Today, we’re making a fruit salad, but not like that.
The word salad usually refers to something vegetal or savory, something to be served alongside roast chicken or baked pasta or grilled cheese—but there are a few exceptions.
Cookie salad is a Midwestern dish consisting of, ahem, cookies, plus fruit, vanilla pudding, and whipped cream. Strawberry pretzel salad is a Southern dessert boasting a pretzel crust, cream-cheese center, and strawberry Jell-O crown. And fruit salad is a mixed bag of chopped fruit that's sometimes dressed, sometimes not.
If you ask someone what “fruit salad” brings to mind, the answer will likely include strawberry quarters, grape halves, melon chunks, kiwi hunks, banana slices. This is a far cry from salad salad, as in crisp produce laced with oil and salt. Let’s change that.
You could call this Big Little Recipe a fruit salad—and it is! a salad of fruit!—but it looks (and tastes and smells) nothing like a fruit salad in the expected sense.
Instead of including every fruit under the sun and then some, there’s just one stone fruit: peaches (1). You could use nectarines or plums or, really, any fruit that’s ripe, juicy, and in season. But just pick one. By restraining the ingredient list, you can focus less on quantity, more on quality, letting that ingredient really shine, like when a singer strips away the special effects and you feel like, wow, you’re hearing their voice for the first time. (2)
But the real kicker here isn’t the fruit. It’s the dressing. Because summer peaches are practically candy, we’re skipping the honey or simple syrup that often sneaks its way into fruit salads. Instead, we’ll make a savory, bracing vinaigrette—equal parts of olive oil and white wine vinegar—upgraded with mashed anchovies.
Anchovies are always in my kitchen, be it for pantry pasta or Caesar salad or bagna cauda. When added to something sweet, like fruit, this tiny, brawny fish gets to flex its umami strength.
Think of it like when you crumble salt on a brownie or shake vinegar over French fries. Turning up the contrast makes you appreciate all the little things—the fudginess of chocolate, the thrill of a deep-fry, the tanginess of an August peach.
Whatever you call it—fruit salad or fruit salad—this dish would love to hang out with whatever you happen to be serving for lunch or dinner. As with a vegetable salad, it’s a refreshing accompaniment to any main dish, like an unexpected breeze on a sticky, humid day.
| 2 | ripe peaches |
| 3 | anchovy fillets, minced |
| 1 | tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil |
| 1 | tablespoon white wine (or rice) vinegar |
| Kosher or flaky salt and freshly ground black pepper |
| 2 | ripe peaches |
| 3 | anchovy fillets, minced |
| 1 | tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil |
| 1 | tablespoon white wine (or rice) vinegar |
| Kosher or flaky salt and freshly ground black pepper |
(1) As I note in the video above, I inherited an aversion to peach fuzz from my grandma (hi Grandma!). Just writing that, peach fuzz, is giving me goosebumps. Does anyone else have this? Is there a name for it?
(2) Why yes, I have had Taylor Swift's Folklore on repeat! And I would love to chat about it with you in the comments! What’s your favorite song?
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Written by: Emma Laperruque
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26 Comments
An odd sensation felt by certain people when handling peaches or other fuzzy surfaces.
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