Introduction

Let me be honest with you right out of the gate: I have opinions about salads. Strong ones.

If you serve me a salad with baby carrots cut into little rounds, I will smile. I will say thank you. And I will silently, internally, judge you. Not forever. But briefly. Firmly.

Most of the salads in this book are meals. Hearty, fully-committed meals — the kind that don't apologize for being substantial. But I also know that sometimes you need something lighter. A summer evening. A day where lunch already got out of hand. A giant pot roast dinner that still somehow left you wanting something bright and alive on the side. You still deserve a flavor bomb in those moments — it just doesn't need to be dinner. So I've organized the book accordingly: the big, bold meal salads up front, and a lighter collection in the back for when you need the flavor without the commitment.

What this book is not is a collection of quick, easy salads. There is nothing wrong with quick, easy salads — they have their place, and that place is not here. This book is for people who want a salad experience. The kind where you stop mid-bite and think: what is happening right now, and why is this so good. Layered. Textured. Built with intention.

I've been making salads for as long as I can remember. I grew up in the kitchen — it's basically my natural habitat — and somewhere along the way, salads became my thing. Anyone who's eaten at my table knows this. I take them seriously. I think about the acid. I have strong feelings about texture. I will julienne a vegetable by hand because it's meditative and also because I want the result to be exactly right.

The salads here are ones I've built, lovingly borrowed, adapted, and obsessed over for years. Some were inspired by chefs I deeply admire — Ottolenghi, obviously, who has permanently rewired how I think about flavor combinations. Some came out of the most unexpectedly great food I've ever eaten at Google's Mixit café, where the in-house chefs are quietly doing things with salads that have no business being as good as they are. I've been sitting there eating something extraordinary, mentally reverse-engineering it, then going home to make my version. This book is full of those moments.

A note on the dressings: some of them have been made so many times they're locked in. Others are still alive — still evolving, still being tweaked. You'll see a lab marker next to those. Think of it as an invitation. Try the recipe, make it your own, and tell me what you changed. The best recipes are always a conversation.

This is a labor of love. Make a mess. Eat well.

— Jaclyn