Why Late Spring Salads Taste Different

By mid-May the garden is finally ahead of the kitchen. Leaves sown in April are big enough to pick, radishes go from seed to plate in three or four weeks flat, and the herb pots have turned from apologetic to rampant. It is the shortest and best window of the year for a midday salad, because everything is tender, sweet and in a hurry. Come July the same leaves will be bolting, the radishes will be woody and fierce, and you will be negotiating with the slugs over what is left. So make the most of it now, while the growing is easy and nothing has turned bitter.

Start with Peppery Leaves, and Treat Them Gently

A late spring salad lives or dies on its leaves. This is the moment for the sharp, peppery ones that fade in the heat: rocket, watercress, mustard greens, land cress, mizuna, pea shoots, young spinach and the thinnings of chard. Buy or pick them small, before the stems toughen.

Two habits make a real difference. First, wash them in cold water and dry them properly — a tea towel and a bit of patience, or a salad spinner. Wet leaves dilute dressing and go limp in minutes. Second, dress at the very last moment, just before the bowl goes to the table. If you are picking from the garden, do it in the morning while the leaves are still cool and turgid, then keep them in the fridge wrapped in a damp tea towel. They will hold for two days that way.

Radishes: The Crunch That Holds Everything Together

Radishes are the great underrated salad vegetable. Sliced thinly — a mandoline if you have one, a sharp knife and a steady hand if you do not — they give a salad the snap it needs to feel like food rather than garnish. Breakfast radishes and the long French ones are milder than the round red bullets, but any of them will do.

If raw radish tastes too hot and scratchy for you, salt the slices in a colander for ten minutes, then pat them dry. The salt draws out water and softens the bite without losing the crunch. Do not throw away the leaves: chopped small, they are peppery in exactly the way rocket is, and they cost nothing.

Herbs Are an Ingredient, Not a Garnish

The single biggest difference between a home salad and a good one is the quantity of herbs. Use them by the handful, not by the leaf. Mint and radish is a classic pairing; add a few cooked or frozen peas and you have something worth sitting down for. Soft herbs — parsley, dill, chervil, chives, tarragon — should be torn or roughly chopped, never blitzed to dust, or they lose their oils and their point.

• Mint with radish, peas and goat's cheese
• Dill with cucumber, new potatoes and a lemony dressing
• Chives stirred through soft cheese or a buttermilk dressing
• Parsley and tarragon with cold chicken or a boiled egg

Soft Cheese and a Dressing That Earns Its Place

Soft cheese turns a bowl of leaves into lunch. A young goat's cheese, crumbled feta, a spoonful of ricotta beaten with lemon zest and a pinch of salt, or a British soft sheep's cheese — all work. If you are using something soft and mild, season it yourself; it makes more difference than the variety you choose.

For the dressing, keep it simple and sharp. Three parts good olive or rapeseed oil to one part acid — lemon juice or cider vinegar — with a teaspoon of mustard, salt and pepper. Shake it in a jar. If your leaves are on the fierce side, a little honey or a spoonful of buttermilk will round them off. Add the dressing in stages and toss with your hands, so you can stop before the leaves are weighed down.

Turning It into a Proper Lunch

If you are eating this at midday, it needs to hold you until dinner. Add one substantial thing and one starchy thing, and you are there:

• New potatoes, boiled and cooled to just warm
• A boiled egg, halved, or cold roast chicken
• Pearl barley, couscous or a slice of sourdough, rubbed with a cut garlic clove
• Toasted seeds or a handful of broken walnuts
• A few shavings of hard cheese instead of soft, if you want something saltier

Assemble it in layers rather than tossing everything together: dressed leaves at the bottom, heavier things on top, cheese last so it does not smear.

Keeping the Window Open

Late spring is fleeting, but you can stretch it. Sow a small pinch of salad seed every fortnight rather than one big row — a metre of leaves is plenty for two people, and successional sowing means you never face a glut that all bolts at once. Grow in pots on a shady windowsill if you have no garden; cut-and-come-again mixes are made for it. Water in the morning, not the evening, and give the plants a little shade once the sun gets strong.

Above all, pick often. Salad leaves left to grow large turn bitter and tough, and the whole point of a late spring lunch is that it is brief, bright and picked at exactly the right moment.