My mother’s cooking is comparable to Anthony Hopkins’ acting; everything is good. Whether it is her meatballs or her meatloaf, her veal parmesan or her grilled cheese, everything has a bold flavor that stands on its own two feet. The gem in my mother’s cooking crown is the dish that is most often times only playing a supporting role, her self-dressed salad. The salad changes an entrée into a meal, much like the way a great supporting actor/actress changes a quality lead performance to a fulfilling feature film.
There are no strict measurements to follow in her recipe, but it is a balanced combination of first-press olive oil and red wine vinegar poured onto a few flicks of garlic, a couple pinches of parsley, some salt and pepper and a developed palette determining the correct balance. When I was a kid, my mother would ask me if the salad dressing needed anything and even if I could tell the difference between tonight’s dressing and last night’s, I wouldn’t be able to determine what the missing part was. But, after years of snatching cucumber slices when my mom was attending to other dishes, I can tell when the combination is just right.
Comparatively, there are no set guidelines to how to become a successful supporting actor. The balance between the lead role and the supporting character determines the quality of the supports contribution. If the lead role is supposed to dominate the plotline, maybe the supporting salad needs less garlic. If the supporting salad is a bold contrast to the main culinary character, maybe it needs more vinegar.
My mother’s salad gets a callback on all of its auditions. It is better than Joaquin Phoenix as Caesar Salad in Gladiator and is better than Kathy Bates’ Hobbling Cobb Salad in Misery. My mother’s salad gets two thumbs way up for all of its appearances.
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