Split Decision Salad

Fanny Cradock has views on salads, and she's not afraid to share them. First of all, in the words of the late Samuel Goldwyn (for reasons unknown) she wishes to make to clear that she is 'including out' things which are simply 'beneath her contempt'. A good salad is not a bowl of chopped lettuce, not cucumber with the skin cut off (so that everyone gets the burps), not un-skinned tomatoes and a most definitely not bottle of bought 'salad cream'. I'm with Fanny on that last one - she feels it is a misnomer as it contains no cream, and it does contain malt vinegar. Said vinegar is excellent for cleaning refrigerators and for taking stains of polished surfaces, but, Fanny maintains, is lethal to the taste buds and should be banned from home cooking. I just can't bear salad cream.

Fanny feels that by the very nature of it's ingredients, the humble salad is potentially a perfect example of a gourmet's requirements no matter how modest the expenditure is. Tomatoes must be skinned. Cucumbers must be un-skinned and sliced very thinly. Lettuce must be washed, torn, shaken and served cold. Real mayonnaise must be used. This makes the absolute minimal salad assembly and avoids the abomination of limpness. Pimentoes must be hard, crisp and tight skinned. Eggs must never be boiled for longer than eight minutes, and must be slung immediately afterwards into cold water to avoid nasty black lines around the yolk, which is off-putting at the best of times.

Most people in England, Fanny says not meaning to wade in on national divides, labour under the monumental misconception that a 'green salad' should be a kind of vegetarian dog's dinner compromising rabbit food and oddments, all higgled together on a kidney-shaped dish under the wrong name of 'Tossed Green Salad'. The main offence however remains that it is clearly not green, but multi-coloured. So what is the real deal? Fanny is keen to evoke feelings of nostalgia to explain...

Not sure who's nostalgia it is, perhaps her own? The answer lies in France, of course, where all things civilised reside. Between the hours of noon and two, every French working man, whether he quits his office desk, road excavation, factory yard, field, counter or luxurious limousine, returns home to discover the homemaker shaking out crisp, well picked green stuff, Salade Verte, from their saladiers, to be served after the main course. Fanny suggests a slight change of colour with her idea for British homes, the Iris Salad. Just please do not serve it with any wine. Fanny begs you. Not at lunchtime at any rate, surely.

Perhaps it is not the colour which gives the Iris Salad it's name. It's far from a violet hue. Perhaps it is because you will not believe your eyes. Especially after all Fanny's demands. She makes a simple dressing with wine vinegar, oil, crushed garlic, chopped pimentos, paprika and pickles. No salad cream. All good so far. She washes and spin dries crisp, cos salad leaves. She slices tomatoes neatly, more pimentos, perfectly boiled eggs and just before she drizzles the dressing over, she adds slices of banana. Yes, banana. In a salad. At least it wasn't salad cream, that would just be disgusting...