Let’s talk about why it works. The dressing is a emulsion—oil, egg, acid, and cheese that refuse to separate. It’s alchemy. You can’t just dump ingredients in a bowl and hope for the best. Cardini knew this, which is why he insisted on tableside preparation.
Today, you can buy bottled dressing, but please don’t tell the ghost of Caesar Cardini. He’s probably rolling in his grave every time you squirt that neon goop from a plastic bottle. Fresh is the only way. I said what I said.
So, next time you order a Caesar salad, imagine a sweaty Italian chef in Tijuana, improvising with what he had. That’s not just a salad—it’s a story. Eat it with your hands. Savor the mess. And never, ever call it Italian.
Now, go forth and crouton-on, my friend.
