Easy Caesar Salad

Diego's first Little League practice. The boy stood at home plate with a bat that was almost as tall as he was and swung at a ball on a tee and missed. Missed the tee. The ball was stationary and Diego missed it. He swung again and hit the tee, which launched the ball approximately four feet in the direction of third base, which is technically a hit in the same way that a burned brisket is technically cooked. He was thrilled. He ran the bases in the wrong direction. The coach — not me, not yet, the head coach is a man named Dave who has the patience of a Buddhist monk and the liver of a man who coaches six-year-olds — redirected Diego to first base and Diego slid into the bag headfirst, which is not a technique that six-year-olds need to employ but which Diego performed with the commitment of a man stealing home in the World Series.

I stood behind the backstop and watched and thought: this boy will never be a baseball player. His hand-eye coordination is, to put it charitably, still developing. His attention span is measured in single-digit seconds. His technique is nonexistent. But his joy — his absolute, uncontaminated joy at being on a field, wearing a uniform, being part of a team — is the purest thing I have ever witnessed, and I will coach this team next season because I want to be inside that joy, not just watching it from behind a fence.

At Rivera's, we ran our first full-service simulation. The staff — all eight of us — operated the restaurant as if it were open. Tomás and I on the pit, Maria and Chris on the line, Luisa on prep, Jake and Carmen on the floor, Alejandro on dish. The customers were Roberto, Elena, Jessica, Sofia, Diego, David Kim, Michael Torres, and six neighbors. Fourteen people eating a full Rivera's menu, served by a staff that has never served a paying customer but which performed with a competence that made my chest tight with something between pride and terror.

The brisket was perfect. The ribs were perfect. The corn was perfect (Sofia grilled it — the corn specialist does not yield her station even during simulations). The green chile stew was perfect. The service was — not perfect. Jake forgot the drink order for table two. Carmen brought the wrong side to table three. The ticket system crashed once and Luisa had to hand-write the orders. These are the problems of a restaurant that is almost ready. Almost ready is not ready. But almost ready is close, and close is where we live for the next six months.

Roberto ate two plates. He sat at the counter — the counter where he will sit on opening day — and he ate Roberto's Carne Asada Plate, the dish named after him, made from his recipe, and he looked at me through the glass partition and gave the one-nod. The one-nod from Roberto is worth more than a perfect Yelp review. The one-nod means: the fire is right.

After a simulation night like that — brisket perfect, ribs perfect, Roberto giving the one-nod — you want something that brings the whole table back to earth, something clean and bright that cuts through smoke and fat and the particular euphoria of a night that almost worked. This Caesar was on our early draft menu and got cut to make room for the corn station (Sofia’s domain, non-negotiable), but I keep making it at home because it tastes like a place that knows what it’s doing. Diego ate two bowls of it at the simulation. The kid who swings at stationary balls apparently has a refined palate.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 large heads romaine lettuce, chopped or torn into bite-sized pieces
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
1 cup croutons (store-bought or homemade)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
3 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 small garlic cloves, minced or pressed
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Optional: 2 anchovy fillets, minced

Instructions

Make the dressing. In a large salad bowl or a small mixing bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, mayonnaise, Worcestershire sauce, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, and anchovy fillets (if using) until smooth and well combined.
Emulsify with oil. While whisking, slowly drizzle in the olive oil until the dressing is creamy and emulsified. Season with salt and black pepper. Taste and adjust — more lemon for brightness, more salt if it needs it.
Prep the romaine. Wash and thoroughly dry the romaine lettuce. Chop or tear into pieces. Dry lettuce is non-negotiable — wet leaves make the dressing slide off and the whole thing gets sad.
Toss the salad. Add the romaine to the bowl with the dressing. Toss until every leaf is coated. Add half the Parmesan and toss again.
Finish and serve. Top with croutons and the remaining Parmesan. Add an extra crack of black pepper. Serve immediately — this does not hold well once dressed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy Caesar Salad — The One That Almost Made the Simulation Menu