Les carottes râpées

‘This is very good for jetlag’ were the words accompanying my carrot salad.  I’d arrived in France months ago, but it didn’t seem worth belaboring the point. Besides, I was sitting in a grandiose apartment belonging to my grandparents’ friends and busy feeling out of place. The space sprawled, the language flew over my ears, never quite managing to make it to my brain, and drinking wine in the middle of the day was a first for me. The afternoon was all a bit blurry, and I can’t recall much of what we talked about. I can’t recall whether I talked at all.

But I do know what we ate. There was poached skate with black butter (I told you!) and capers. There was all that wine. (Realistically, a small glass.) There was a cheese course, and some fruit to follow. There was coffee. We started with that salad, though. It looked exactly like what it was, which was grated carrots. I’d had grated carrots in smaller quantities at salad bars before. Haven’t we all? Those dry, almost floury tragedies, sitting atop frilly lettuce leaves, and all of it languishing under lights and plastic rooftops that are supposed to make things more appetizing and hygienic.

These were not that. But they were still just grated carrots. Someone may have even—horror upon horrors—breathed over them while grating them. But there was some lemon in them, and some oil. Probably salt and pepper. There may have been some parsley—I can’t recall that either—but there was little else. And those carrots were really good.

I now make carrot salads often, and tend to like what is admittedly a fussier set of ingredients than that described above. I fancy the one below vaguely Moroccan, but really don’t know what it should be called. Measurements do not belong in recipes like these, because the right ones will depend upon what you like to eat. Carrots should not be bought already grated. Quality and freshness are lost in the making of these products, and cleanliness—sterilized though they may look—can apparently be an issue. They will also taste like nothing at all.

On grating carrots: Machines may do this for you. I don’t own any of them, don’t want any of them, and have no idea how they function. I’m afraid I don’t much believe in kitchen gadgetry, as it takes up space and costs money I’d rather spend on shoes. Even if your kitchen is roomy and your resources limitless, gadgets create clutter, which is the enemy of efficiency. Perhaps you don’t care about efficiency. I’d rather be eating dinner. In any event, I have a truly cheap grater with a red handle that I bought in China and is kind of dull. It produces what is more carrot pulp than carrot grated. But it is fast, and the results are still very good. Nonetheless, I prefer to use a knife. There is less clean-up, the results are prettier, and if you’ve cut up enough things in your life, it will go quickly enough.

Carrot salad with apricots + ginger

Carrots, 1-2 per person  |  parsley, cilantro, or a mixture  |  dried fruit of some kind, like apricots or dates or raisins |  almonds  |  fresh ginger  |  lemon  |  very good olive oil  |  sugar, optional  |  salt and black pepper

Peel and grate the carrots into a large bowl. Chop the herbs as coarsely or as finely as you like. Do the same with the dried fruit. Toast the almonds in a small skillet over low-ish heat, tossing every now and again. When they smell toasty, remove from heat, and after they have cooled, chop roughly and add to the bowl.

While the almonds are toasting and then cooling, grate some ginger into a smaller bowl, and squeeze some lemon over it. Swish to distribute. Then add olive oil and stir to make a dressing. Pour over the carrots, herbs, dried fruit, and almonds. Toss lightly with your hands, taking care not to smoosh the carrots. Taste. Add more ginger if you want more heat or spice. Add a tiny bit of sugar if your carrots are not appropriately sweet, and so forth. Add salt and black pepper to taste. Keep in mind that after you salt the salad, it will start to draw water out of the carrots, and the bottom of your plate will turn puddly, so do this at the last minute.