Honey and Mustard Dressing

There's a jam jar at the back of my fridge that almost always has some version of this dressing in it. Not always the same. Sometimes more honey, sometimes more vinegar, sometimes a smashed clove of garlic in the bottom because I felt like it. A dressing is a conversation, not a contract, and this one has been going on for years.

It belongs to summer, mostly. The first proper salad days, when the leaves at the market have started to look like something worth buying again and the goat's cheese in the fridge is asking for company. Toasted walnuts, a few slices of pear if it's later in the year, a handful of bitter leaves, this dressing poured over the top. We're only making dinner. But there are few better dinners on a warm evening than a bowl of leaves dressed properly and some bread to mop up what's left at the bottom.

The trick, if there is one, is the mustard. Wholegrain for texture, a little Dijon for sharpness and to help the oil and vinegar hold hands. Runny honey, not set, because set honey clumps and sulks. Good cider vinegar with some character to it. And olive oil that you'd happily drink from the bottle, because you can taste it in every mouthful. Five ingredients. A jar. Thirty seconds of shaking. I wrote it down in the notebook a long time ago and have never needed to write it down again.