Chicken Caesar Salad with scrambled eggs and toast

*Or: “Finding out why everyone just uses store-bought caesar dressing”

Right off the bat, you are probably asking yourself what scrambled eggs on toast has to do with caesar salad. The answer, of course, is nothing, unless you are cooking with me and I didn’t do enough prep work. But we’ll come back to that in a minute. When last I posted we were doggedly working our way through the greens. We’re still at it. I had a lovely spinach salad and Chad used the remaining leaves for another sandwich, while Shae took care of the mixed greens with her own salad. Now we were down to the romaine and the swiss chard, and I don’t know about you, but to me romaine lettuce just screams caesar salad. And it was going to be quick and easy because a caesar is the simplest salad ever. ¬†Greens plus dressing plus cheese, possibly some croutons. I had some chicken that needed cooked, and I decided to grill it and throw that on top. No problem. Then I got ambitious and that’s when the trouble started.

Romaine. Caesar. It just makes sense. Even the puppy sous-chef agrees.

Romaine. Caesar. It just makes sense. Even the puppy sous-chef agrees.

For some stupid reason I can’t remember, I decided to make my own caesar dressing. Okay that’s a lie. I know exactly why I wanted to make my own caesar dressing. I wanted to make my own caesar dressing because one of the only times I ever babysat anyone was when I went across the street to keep the Johnson’s kid busy while the parents had a dinner party. I got there early and Mrs. Johnson was trying and failing to coddle an egg for a homemade caesar dressing. I watched her run through half a dozen eggs. I was in my early teens at the time and was both blown away to find you could make salad dressing from scratch and amused that this woman seemed to suck at it. And since that night decades ago, every time I have had a caesar salad, I think of Mrs. Johnson in her evening finery throwing egg after egg in the trash and chuckle. Why I thought I could do any better is beyond me, but some sort of CSA-hubris had me in its grip. And so it was that at 10 pm on a saturday night I ran to the grocery store to buy anchovies and eggs. Continue reading