← Back to Blog

Oil and Vinegar Dressing — The Only Thing You Need on a Perfect Summer Salad

Summer officially arrived. The kind of Wisconsin summer day that makes you forget every miserable January: eighty degrees, blue sky, the lake glittering like someone threw diamonds in it. I drove to work with the Jeep top off and the music up and everything was right with the world.

Megan's last day of school was Friday. She came home with three tote bags of gifts from students — mostly mugs that say "Best Teacher" and homemade cards that make her cry every single year. The card from Omar — the kid who didn't speak much English at the beginning of the year — was written in complete sentences. Megan read it at the kitchen table and her eyes filled up and she said, "This is why." Two words. The whole reason.

We went to the farmers market on Saturday — the South Shore market, walking distance from our apartment. Summer farmers markets in Milwaukee are the best thing about living here. Tomatoes, sweet corn, berries, herbs, cheese from actual Wisconsin dairies, bread from local bakers. I buy too much every time. Megan carries the bags and makes fun of me for buying more produce than two people can eat. She's right. We eat it anyway.

Made a summer salad for dinner — nothing fancy, just everything good from the market thrown together. Heirloom tomatoes sliced thick, fresh mozzarella, basil, olive oil, salt. Maybe a drizzle of balsamic if you're feeling fancy. This is the meal I want to eat every night from June to August. It tastes like sunshine and effort and the short, blazing glory of Wisconsin summer. Babcia would have called this "not enough food." She would have added pierogi on the side. She would have been right.

We're hosting the Fourth of July at our apartment this year — a small cookout on the balcony. I am already planning the menu. Megan is already planning how to fit more than four people on a balcony. We are both delusional. It's going to be great.

That salad — heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, basil pulled straight from the market — didn’t need much. It never does in July. What it needed was a dressing that stayed out of the way and let the produce do the talking, something with good olive oil and enough acid to make everything pop. This oil and vinegar dressing is exactly that: simple, honest, and the reason I keep going back to the South Shore market every Saturday all summer long.

Oil and Vinegar Dressing

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: 8 (about 1/2 cup total)

Ingredients

  • 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
  • 1 small clove garlic, minced
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
  • 1/4 teaspoon granulated sugar
  • 6 tablespoons good-quality extra-virgin olive oil

Instructions

  1. Combine the base. In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, minced garlic, salt, pepper, oregano, and sugar until the salt and sugar dissolve.
  2. Emulsify the oil. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil while whisking constantly, or seal the jar and shake vigorously for 20–30 seconds, until the dressing is emulsified and slightly thickened.
  3. Taste and adjust. Taste the dressing and adjust salt, pepper, or vinegar to your preference. For a caprese salad, a touch more vinegar brightens the tomatoes beautifully.
  4. Dress and serve. Drizzle over sliced heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and fresh basil leaves. Serve immediately, or store the dressing in a sealed jar in the refrigerator for up to one week. Shake well before each use.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 95 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 1g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 115mg

Jake Kowalski
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 307 of Jake’s 30-year story · Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?