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Oreilles du Diable Salad
If you can't find Devils' Ear Lettuce, there exists a close approximation called Firecracker Lettuce, which is a deep purple color and tastes nutty and savory. Buy one head for every two or three people, depending on how big they are, and wash the leaves, tear them into a bite-sized pieces and toss them with the following vinaigrette:
Whisk olive oil with balsamic vinegar in the proportions you prefer. Stir in (all amounts can be adjusted or varied to taste) 1/2 teaspoon of anchovy paste, 1 teaspoon wet mustard, one minced garlic clove, a pinch of sugar, 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice, and coarse-ground black pepper to taste. Toss the salad and serve immediately, or chill it while dinner is eaten and serve afterwards.
Chapter One
..."I set a table in back, on the patio," said Teddy. She was dishing something onto plates: stewed chicken over couscous. On the counter was a salad made of only some sort of strange purple lettuce, nothing else. He helped her carry things out to the patio, the two plates laden with steaming food, the salad bowl, another bottle of cold Sancerre. The evening sunlight in the yard was so intense it was almost surreal. It was an odd little garden, a jumble of flowering bushes and wild grasses crowded together in a lush tangle that seemed to grow as it liked without human interference, yet there seemed to be an original organizing principal behind the riot, God's or Teddy's or someone else's.
Henry sat at the old enameled metal table on Teddy's tiny bluestone terrace and picked up his fork. The food, which looked bland and unprepossessing, was subtle and amazing. The couscous tasted nutty and buttery. The rich chicken stew was laced with hints of saffron, cinnamon, cayenne, lemon zest, and something else, unfamiliar and exotic, but these things announced themselves very faintly, so he had to concentrate to taste them through the perfectly cooked meat and grain.
He took some salad and forked a slippery, dressing-coated, burgundy lettuce leaf into his mouth. Fresh lemon juice, coarse black pepper and olive oil mingled on his tongue. He stared at the salad on his plate.
"I grow it myself," said Teddy, who had been watching him closely. "Not directly in Greenpoint soil, don't worry, it's so contaminated would make you grow another head. Look, over there in tubs by that corner by the fence, an unusual and rare lettuce most people haven't heard of: Les Oreilles du Diable, ears of the devil. It's excellent, isn't it? Nutty and robust. I bought the seeds for the name..."
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