Julia Child was easy to please in the same way that Sir Winston Churchill was. The British statesman famously said that all he wanted was perfection; Julia just wanted food to be delicious.
With that sole criterion in play, she would eat just about anything — except pasta salad. I never knew why she had such an aversion to the wildly popular dish, but her dislike was so deep that during the summer of 1995, when we filmed the PBS series “Baking With Julia” at her house in Cambridge, Mass., she gave the caterer of the day free rein with only one caveat: Pasta salad was a deal-breaker for our crew of 15 to 20. And she was good to her word. Two caterers were fired the afternoons when the forbidden dish hit the table.
Not surprisingly, I can’t look at a pasta salad without thinking of Julia, and she was at the top of my mind when I put together the accompanying recipe. I don’t think of it as a salad, but there’s no doubt that it was inspired by one. This is my take on one of my favorite cold dishes: salad Niçoise.
The celebrated French Riviera salad is known for its handful of iconic ingredients: olives (Niçoise, if possible); anchovies (I thought I’d get these out here early; I know they’re controversial, so I’ve made them optional); capers; green beans; tomatoes; potatoes (the pasta can stand in for these or you can add them); eggs (optional); garlic; and, most important, tuna.
Takeway tips
Lots of restaurants get fancy and use fresh tuna, but the classic salad is made with canned tuna, so that’s what you should use with this dish. Choose good-quality tuna packed in olive oil, and save the oil, because it becomes the base of the sauce (or, dare I say, dressing). I opt for light tuna because I think it has more flavor than white, but the choice is yours.
The vegetables — colorful, popping with flavor and contributing crunch, chew and bite — give the dish its wide appeal. The green beans and tomatoes are crucial for authenticity, taste and texture, too. In France, the beans would be skinny haricots verts, but regular green beans are fine; just cut them into bite-size lengths. As for the tomatoes, I’ve seen the salads made with wedges from fist-size fruits or chunks of grape or cherry tomatoes. I’m suggesting the smaller tomatoes because they usually run sweetest, and I’m bolstering their flavor with some chopped sun-dried tomatoes. If you’ve got juicy, delicious fresh tomatoes, you can skip the dried.
Capers are a must, and anchovies are optional, although I’m crossing my fingers that you’ll use them. I think they’re great with the tuna and tomatoes. If you do, don’t skip the rinse step. Some people call it “desalinization,” and I think they’re right; it certainly cuts the saltiness.
The dish requires advance prep: cooking the beans and slicing, chopping and dicing the other ingredients. But once that’s accomplished, and it can be done a few hours ahead, it will take you only as long as it takes the pasta to cook to pull it all together. Actually, “pull it all together” makes it sound strenuous. All you’ve got to do is mix everything. And taste. It’s really important that you taste the finished dish for salt (you’d be surprised that even with all the savory ingredients, you might still want more salt; pasta is a salt sopper-upper), pepper (black and red) and more olive oil.
You can, if you’d like, toss in a handful of greens just before you bring the dish to the table. Had I been making this for Julia, you can be sure I wouldn’t have: too much like salad. I also wouldn’t have mentioned to her how good the leftovers are chilled. It’s the pasta-salad thing again.
Photo by Dixie D. Vereen. This story appeared in my Everyday Dorie column in the Washington Post.
