A salad dressing without olive oil doesn't sound genius—it doesn't even sound good. Harsh, imbalanced, aggressive, joyless even? Well yes, it must be so.
But this radish and herb salad, from Engin Akin's new cookbook Essential Turkish Cuisine, has no fat of any kind—and involves no sacrifice, no straining to compensate. Truthfully, it's all the better for not having a lick of oil.
Initially, I couldn't believe that this would be a selling point for Genius Recipes—or for me. I've worked for almost six years for Food52, a company whose values direct us to embrace all the whole foods (and even some of the not-so-whole ones), and whose banned words list includes "indulgent" and "calories" and all references to diets and guilt.
But even I—and every colleague I fed this salad—fell for a fat-free dressing. We're going to have to update our mission statement!
Why leave the olive oil out? The reason is simple. "Like most salads from eastern Turkey," Akin writes in the recipe's headnote, "this salad is prepared without olive oil, as it is hard to get where olive trees are not part of the landscape." In an email, she also pointed out the clues in the recipe's name, Anatolian Gypsy Salad: "It must have been unpractical to carry olive oil or any kind of oil, as gypsies are nomads, and moving with oil canteens would have been not so easy."
But why does it work so well? For one thing, there's no vinegar or lemon juice, so the dressing doesn't need as much padding as a typical high-acid vinaigrette. Instead, it has an unlikely but brilliant base: tomato paste, pomegranate molasses, and crushed ice. As the ice melts, it keeps the radishes bright and crunchy, but also thins the sweet, musky syrup to be looser, lighter.
All together, it's as tangy and vibrant as any good salad dressing, but naturally a bit softer and more nuanced than a shot of vinegar. There's also some crushed garlic, some sumac, and a whole mess of herbs—all at full volume, without a muzzle of fat.
Not that there's anything wrong with fat. But sometimes, the indulgence might be in not using it.
Got a genius recipe to share—from a classic cookbook, an online source, or anywhere, really? Please send it my way (and tell me what's so smart about it) at [email protected]. Thank you to Associate Editor Ali Slagle for this one!
Photos by Bobbi Lin
The Genius Desserts cookbook is here! With more than 100 of the most beloved and talked-about desserts of our time (and the hidden gems soon to join their ranks) this book will make you a local legend, and a smarter baker to boot.
I'm an ex-economist, ex-Californian who moved to New York to work in food media in 2007. Dodgy career choices aside, I can't help but apply the rational tendencies of my former life to things like: recipe tweaking, digging up obscure facts about pizza, and deciding how many pastries to put in my purse for "later."