Drowning in Russian Dressing

Or: The Thin End of the Wedge

I’ve been sick for the past ten days. Nothing more tragic than a lingering cold, but it’s enough to have left me lumpish and cloudy-headed for what feels like months. Add to the mix several grey days and an endless cycle of terrible news, subtract all in-person human contact, and you’ve got a recipe for what one might politely refer to as “a bit of mental health unpleasantness”.

It feels like drowning. Not in water or anything as exciting as molasses or Malmsey, but rather mucus and Weltschmerz which, the more I think about it, sounds like the world’s most depressing vaudeville double act.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome those darlings of the Orpheum Circuit, Mucus & Weltschmerz…”

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I’m on some pretty strong French cold medication as I type this, in case you were wondering (Thanks,

Jamie Schler

), so I should probably get to the point before it’s time for my next pill.

I’ve been doing all the right things like drinking hot tea, taking steamy showers, sleeping, and trying to stay away from the news, but I need something else to help clear away the cobwebs. Or, at the very least, my nasal passages, which is why I’m turning to horseradish in my hour of need.

I thought about several traditional ways of getting the horseradish into my system, but roast beef is a “no” because it’s too expensive and I’m cutting down on red meat, I remain dubious about sushi home delivery, and I think Bloody Marys are a bloody shame.

So Russian dressing it has to be then. Especially since I have all the ingredients for it in my refrigerator and a head of iceberg lettuce that isn’t getting any younger. The idea of getting some roughage in me and knowing I wouldn’t have to drag myself to the store for any reason were two more reasons for my decision.

I am standing by my choice and will see you next week with a bit of dairy-related fun and in a better state of health.

Iceberg Lettuce Drowned in Russian Dressing

I have examined at least two dozen recipes for Russian dressing and no two have been alike. The original recipe (from New Hampshire, as far as I can tell) includes caviar, which is apparently the reason for it being called “Russian”, but I am not an oligarch and therefore can’t afford to be tossing sturgeon roe into mayonnaise with anything approaching abandon.

Some recipes call for Worcestershire sauce, others for Heinz chili sauce, pickle relish, and/or vinegar. Since Russia covers more ground than any nation on earth with nearly 200 different ethnic groups represented and the fact that Russian dressing was invented by a guy in New England, I’m of the mind that you can pretty much put whatever you want in the dressing and get away with it so long as it includes mayonnaise, some coloring agent to give it a pinkish hue, and of course my beloved horseradish.

Russian dressing is one of those viscous mixtures that's culinary death to the tender greens of a springtime salad, but wonderful when generously poured over a sturdy wedge of iceberg lettuce in the colder months. When one has tired of salad, but has enough of the stuff left over, it is equally at home dripping down one's wrists as it oozes from a hot Reuben.

Reuben Kincaid, manager of the Partridge Family and poster boy for male sexual magnetism in the early 1970s.

Makes approximately : 1 ½ cups of Russian dressing. Feel free to multiply this recipe by 11 to make just over a gallon, should the need arise.

Ingredients:

• 1 cup of mayonnaise
• 4 tablespoons of horseradish (or more)
• 1 teaspoon of dijon mustard
• 1 tablespoon of tomato ketchup
• 3 teaspoons of Tabasco sauce (very probably more)
• 2 tablespoons finely chopped white onion
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• 2 tablespoons of finely chopped fresh dill
• Plenty of salt & pepper

Preparation:

1. Chop the onion so fine it can mingle among the other ingredients for ages before it's detected.

2. In a bowl combine mayonnaise, horseradish, mustard, ketchup, hot sauce, paprika, and dill. Stir in onion until smooth. Assault the mixture with salt and pepper.

3. Stand back and look at this newly formed puddle of pink goo. If you smoke, take a long, dramatic drag from your cigarette and say, "What the hell have I made?" Emphasizing the word "hell" expels just the right amount of smoke for a marvelously theatrical effect.

4. Refrigerate for a few hours so that the flavor agents have enough time to properly collude.

5. To serve, place an iceberg wedge in a deep bowl and ladle dressing over it until only the tips are left exposed. If serving to company, multiply the recipe and do the same to as many wedges as necessary, which will be fun for your guests because they will have absolutely no idea how much crap they'll have to wade through to get to the bottom of everything.

6. If anyone questions what you've just served them, tell them it's Creamy French Dressing-- they probably won't know the difference. If you've still got that cigarette, blow smoke in the face of the person or persons probing you for an added dash of drama. Don't ash.

7. Place remaining dressing in a smaller bowl and leave out for several days, preferably near your stove. Stir occasionally. Leftovers may then be used to poison your enemies.

8. Deny everything.

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