Paris Rosina's Charred Mortadella Olivier Salad
A fresh and luxurious take on the classic diced vegetable, meat and mayonnaise salad. Words by Paris Rosina. Photos by Emli Bendixen.
Good morning and welcome to Vittles! Today, we are publishing our Big Salad Summer Recipe Supplement, comprising four recipes for main course salads by some of our favourite cooks. Here, Paris Rosina gives us a luxurious take on a classic diced vegetable, meat, and mayonnaise salad, laced with silky homemade mayo, scented with herbs and inspired by memories of her mum’s favourite summer dish. To read the rest of the Summer Recipe Supplement, please click below:
All the articles in the Big Salad Summer Recipe Supplement are paywalled. To view them, you can subscribe to Vittles for £7/month or £59/year. Your subscriptions help to pay all our writers, photographers and illustrators at a fair rate.
I did not achieve my grand stature without more than occasionally filling my plate with salads of rich mayonnaise and reformed meat. I developed a taste for this combination as a child, when I enjoyed what I call my mother’s Shit Nineties Salad: hot-pink crab sticks, rolled up ham, whole spring onions (white parts only!), cooked beetroots, cucumber, gherkins, pickled onions and sliced cheese (often Port Salut) oozing over the side, served with slices of French stick with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter! spread so thickly that taking a bite felt reminiscent of having your teeth cast in gum at the dentist. The final addition was a huge dollop of mayo or salad cream – the backbone of the plate.
This salad represented a rare moment in which my mother ate a meal prepared only for herself. The ingredients would arrive in the fridge at the first sight of sunny spring, their appearance signifying that it was a day to sit in the garden and bask, eyes shut to the household chores. Her pleasure in her summer lunch is an image I will never forget.
This is a more pleasant version of my mum’s dish – or at least I think it is. It’s my chunkier, more charred take on an Olivier salad (also known as a Russian salad), which I make with mortadella – a perfect ensemble of mundanity lifted with folds of creamy mustardy mayo, zingy pickles and fresh herbs. It almost always features on my dinner menus. As a maximalist, it feels like the perfect salad to me, as it calls for everything but the kitchen sink.
