Salad Olivier

Our youngest daughter, Sarah,
enjoying Salad Olivier on our balcony in Tehran

To the naked eye, Salad Olivier appears to be nothing more than a tarted-up potato salad. Yet, like all grand dames dolled up in too much makeup, there is usually a secretly interesting story to be told.

Salad Olivier is to be found on the side tables of many Iranian parties.  It is usually served as an hors d’oeuvre which can be scooped into delicate little glass bowls and eaten daintily with a cocktail fork.  My first taste of Salad Olivier was one weekend late last summer, when we were invited to the Caspian home of our dear friends Marjan and Mansoor.  Marjan is by far the best Iranian cook you are ever likely to meet, and if you are lucky enough to be invited to her home for dinner, for goodness sake, don’t refuse.

But, I digress. I noticed Gary sitting at Marjan’s table and eating nearly the entire bowl of her Salad Olivier at an alarmingly inappropriate pace.  This was – I felt – a signal that it might be a good idea to ask for the recipe, a version of which is shared at the bottom of this blog.

As Gary chomped away, I asked Marjan if this was a particularly Iranian dish.  This started me on a culinary detective exercise, which revealed many leads and a possibly startling conclusion. 

Marjan declares that Salad Olivier is definitely from Iran -- reputed to be from the repertoire of the Russian chef of a rich Iranian family.  On asking around, this seems to be the general consensus, although, some of my other Iranian friends, when served my version of Salad Oliver, have replied that they had never heard of it, never eaten it before – and what did it matter anyway!

A little more digging around and I discovered that this little salad was the source of a culinary catfight between two fussy, dramatic chefs in Moscow’s Hermitage Restaurant in the late 19^th century. The story goes that a certain Lucien Olivier, Belgian chef at the Hermitage, introduced his now-famous salad to the discerning diners of Imperial Russia. The dish became an overnight sensation and the fine folks of Moscow flocked to the restaurant entranced by its delectable dressing, the secret of which was jealously guarded by its flamboyant creator.

Salad Olivier

Now here comes the drama.  Another chef at the restaurant, Chef Ivanov, was so desperate for this secret recipe that one evening when Chef Olivier was busy preparing his famous salad (but had to pop out quickly for you can guess what), Chef Ivanov sneaked over, gathered up the ingredients and started to write down the recipe. 

Chef Olivier returned and caught Ivanov – the sneak thief – in the act of poaching his secret concoction.

Well, you can just picture the whisks and pepper pots flying, Dijon mustard splattering the walls and the ensuing theatrical screaming.  Chef Ivanov promptly left the Hermitage’s employ, but not without his version of Olivier’s salad, which he swiftly sold to a number of publishers. 

And the rest, as they say, is history.

You may note in the recipe that there are no exact measurements for the dressing. Herein lies the rub. Although I would suggest about a third more mayonnaise than mustard, you will have to figure it out for yourself.

And when you do, keep it secret!

Salad Olivier

Ingredients:

3 big potatoes (boiled in the skin and left to cool)

4 boiled eggs

2 cooked chicken breasts

3 to 4 pickled cucumbers (gherkins)

1 small onion chopped

Half a large can or one small can of green garden peas

Sauce:

Mayonnaise

Dijon mustard

Lemon juice (or juice of half a lime)

Olive oil (around 3 to 4 tablespoons)

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Chop all the ingredients up into small pieces, except the peas.

In a large bowl, mix all the sauce ingredients. Use a whisk to get a nice smooth texture and taste. You will need a good 3 to 4 tablespoons of olive oil. Add the chopped ingredients and the peas.

Add salt and lots of pepper to taste. Chill in the fridge until needed.