
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.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by Chef Thomas
Beetroot roasted until sweet and yielding, set against the sharp bite of horseradish cream and the bitter crunch of toasted walnuts, with watercress scattered over the top like it grew there.
October, and the beetroot at the Saturday market looked like something pulled from the earth five minutes ago. Soil still clinging to the skins, leaves still attached, that deep crimson you only get when they've had their time in the ground and nobody rushed them. I bought more than I needed, which is the only way to buy beetroot.
Roasting does something to a beet that boiling never will. The heat concentrates the sugars until the edges caramelise and the centre turns dense and sweet, almost fudgy. The kitchen smells of damp earth and something faintly mineral, a smell that sits right on the border between savoury and sweet. You'll know they're done before you open the oven. Your nose will tell you.
Horseradish is the counterweight. Without it, roasted beetroot is all warmth and sweetness with nowhere to go. The horseradish cream cuts through with a sharpness that clears the sinuses and wakes the whole plate up. Walnuts bring a bitter crunch, watercress brings pepper. Four ingredients, each one doing a different job, none of them competing. This is the kind of salad you put in the middle of the table and let people help themselves from, spooning the cream alongside, reaching for more bread.
I wrote it down in the notebook last autumn: beetroot, horseradish, walnuts, watercress. Friday. Cold outside. Sometimes a list of ingredients is all the recipe you need.
Quantity
6-8 medium
scrubbed, trimmed, unpeeled
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
a few sprigs
Quantity
150ml
Quantity
2-3 tablespoons
freshly grated
Quantity
a squeeze
Quantity
60g
roughly broken
Quantity
a generous bunch
tough stems removed
Quantity
for finishing
Quantity
for finishing
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| beetrootscrubbed, trimmed, unpeeled | 6-8 medium |
| olive oil | 2 tablespoons |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| thyme (optional) | a few sprigs |
| soured cream or crème fraîche | 150ml |
| fresh horseradishfreshly grated | 2-3 tablespoons |
| lemon juice | a squeeze |
| walnutsroughly broken | 60g |
| watercresstough stems removed | a generous bunch |
| extra virgin olive oil | for finishing |
| flaky sea salt | for finishing |
Set the oven to 200C/180C fan. Scrub the beetroot under cold water but don't peel them. The skins protect the flesh while it roasts and slip off easily afterwards. Tumble them onto a large sheet of foil, drizzle with olive oil, scatter with salt and the thyme if you have it. Wrap the foil into a loose but sealed parcel and set it on a baking tray. Roast for forty to fifty minutes, depending on size. They're done when a knife slides through the centre without resistance, no push, no fight. The kitchen will smell of sweet earth and something almost caramelised. That's the sign.
While the beets roast, stir the soured cream, grated horseradish, and lemon juice together in a bowl. Season with a pinch of salt. Taste it. The horseradish should make itself known, a clean, nasal heat that hits the back of the nose and then retreats. If it's too polite, add more. You want this to cut through the sweetness of the beetroot, not tiptoe around it. Cover and leave in the fridge until you're ready to serve. It improves as it sits.
Scatter the walnuts on a small baking tray and put them in the oven for the last five or six minutes of the beetroot's cooking time. Watch them. Walnuts go from toasted to burnt in the time it takes to answer the phone. You want them golden and fragrant, smelling warm and slightly bitter. Take them out and break any large pieces roughly with your hands. Leave them to cool.
When the beetroot are tender, open the foil parcel and let them cool until you can handle them without burning your fingers. The skins should slide off under gentle thumb pressure. If they resist, the beets needed longer. Cut them into irregular wedges and halves, some thick, some thin. You want different shapes so the dressing catches in different ways. Don't be neat about it.
Spread the warm beetroot across a wide plate or shallow dish. Spoon the horseradish cream over and around the beets in rough, generous dollops, not smoothed, not piped, just spooned. Scatter the toasted walnuts over the top. Tuck the watercress into the gaps, letting it sit where it falls rather than arranging it. Finish with a good pour of extra virgin olive oil and a few flakes of sea salt. Bring it to the table as it is. The beetroot should still be warm, the cream cold, the watercress fresh. That contrast is the whole point.
1 serving (about 300g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Thomas
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.

Chef Thomas
Double-podded broad beans and sweet peas, dressed simply with torn mint, lemon, and good olive oil. The kind of bowl that tastes the way a June garden smells.

Chef Thomas
Celeriac cut into pale matchsticks and dressed in sharp mustard and crème fraîche, the sort of thing you make on a Sunday and find yourself eating from the bowl with a fork on Tuesday.

Chef Thomas
Bitter chicory leaves carrying sharp apple, crumbled Stilton, and toasted walnuts, dressed with cider vinegar and honey. A winter salad that earns its place at the table when the garden has shut up shop.