Horiatiki (Greek Village Salad)

Every summer I think about the salads I ate in the Aegean, served at tavernas where the tomatoes had been picked that morning and the feta came from sheep grazing on the hillside above. Those salads contained nothing that needed to be there and everything that did. No lettuce. No fancy greens. Just the honest produce of a Greek summer, treated with respect.

Americans have been making Greek salad wrong for decades. We dice everything small, crumble the feta, add romaine lettuce and bottled dressing, and wonder why it tastes like a side dish at a chain restaurant. The real thing, horiatiki, translates to 'village salad' for a reason. It's peasant food. Farmers' food. The kind of dish that requires nothing but perfect ingredients and the confidence to leave them alone.

The technique here is restraint. Cut your vegetables large. Let their textures remain distinct. Present the feta as a single proud slab, not scattered crumbs. Dress the salad at the last possible moment so the tomatoes stay firm and the cucumbers stay crisp. This is a salad that must be served immediately, which means your guests should be seated and your bread should be sliced before the dressing hits the vegetables.