
Chef Thomas
A Ploughman's Salad
The old pub ploughman's, shaken loose from its board and laid across butter lettuce with a sharp mustard dressing, for the kind of lunch that feels like you've given yourself the afternoon off.
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Floury potatoes dressed in sharp, mustardy homemade salad cream with spring onion and white pepper. The potato salad of village fetes, garden tables, and Saturday evenings that stretch on until the light goes.
The smell of boiling potatoes is not glamorous. It's starchy and domestic and it fogs up the kitchen window. But it is the smell of something being made for someone, and that counts for more than glamour.
This is the potato salad I grew up eating, or near enough. Not the American sort with mayonnaise and celery, which has its own virtues, but the British one: floury potatoes in a tangy, slightly sweet salad cream that coats each piece in something pale and sharp. Spring onions for bite. White pepper for warmth without the dark specks. It belongs on a blanket at a village fete or on a garden table in the evening light, alongside cold ham and a tomato salad and whatever else the day has offered up. It tastes like summer remembered through a kitchen window.
The salad cream is worth making yourself. Shop-bought will do if you're short on time, and I won't judge you for it, but the homemade version has a brightness and a mustard bite that the bottled sort can't match. It takes five minutes and a small saucepan. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, so adjust the vinegar and mustard to your taste. Some evenings call for more sharpness. Some don't.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: potatoes, salad cream, spring onions, the garden. Saturday. I keep coming back to it because there are few better feelings than carrying a bowl of this outside and watching people help themselves without being asked.
Quantity
1kg
peeled and cut into large chunks
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
4
finely sliced
Quantity
small handful
roughly chopped
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
150ml
Quantity
pinch
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| floury potatoes (Maris Piper or King Edward)peeled and cut into large chunks | 1kg |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| spring onionsfinely sliced | 4 |
| flat-leaf parsleyroughly chopped | small handful |
| white pepper | to taste |
| large egg yolks | 2 |
| English mustard | 1 tablespoon |
| caster sugar | 1 tablespoon |
| white wine vinegar | 100ml |
| double cream | 150ml |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
Put the potatoes into a large pan of cold, well-salted water. Bring to a steady simmer and cook until a knife slides through without resistance but the potato doesn't collapse around it. Fifteen to twenty minutes, depending on the size. You want them tender, not falling apart. This matters more than you think: a potato salad made from broken potatoes turns to paste once the dressing goes in.
While the potatoes cook, whisk the egg yolks, mustard, sugar, and a pinch of salt together in a small saucepan until smooth. Add the vinegar gradually, whisking as you go. Set the pan over a low heat and stir constantly with a wooden spoon until the mixture thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon. This takes five minutes, perhaps a little more. Don't rush it and don't let it boil or the eggs will scramble and you'll need to start again. Take the pan off the heat, stir in the cream, and let it cool. It should taste sharp, a little sweet, and faintly mustard-hot. If it doesn't make you raise your eyebrows slightly, add a touch more vinegar.
Drain the potatoes well and spread them on a clean tray or large plate in a single layer. Let them steam dry for a couple of minutes, then leave to cool until they're warm rather than hot. Season them now with salt and white pepper while they're still warm enough to absorb it. This is the window. Seasoning cold potatoes is like trying to introduce yourself to someone who has already left the room.
Spoon the cooled salad cream over the warm potatoes and turn everything together gently. Don't stir. Fold. You want each piece coated but still holding its shape. Scatter in the spring onions and most of the parsley, keeping a little back. Give it one more gentle fold, taste for seasoning, and transfer to a serving bowl. The last of the parsley goes on top. Let it sit for at least twenty minutes before serving so the flavours settle into one another. It should be cool, not fridge-cold. Room temperature is right.
1 serving (about 220g)
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