Salad Spinners
READY, SET, SWING
No one ever mentioned athletic and my mother's name in the same breath. In the feminine vocabulary of my mom's generation, the word fit always referred to clothing. Yet even though my mother was a not-so-closeted candyholic, and despite the fact that she never race-walked, jogged, or swam, she was always trim. I think it must have been all that lettuce-drying that kept her in such great shape.
In the days when my mom was in charge of family meals, lettuce, usually iceberg, was washed in the kitchen sink and dropped into a mesh basket. Then it was spun dry in the backyard by whipping the basket around in arcs that would have made a slow-pitch hurler weep. (I never considered what backyardless moms did.)
Today there are more lettuces than iceberg and more ways to dry them than the strenuous propeller swing. Countless rotator cuffs have been saved by the salad spinner, an indispensable tool that comes in three models: crank, pull cord, and pump. But whatever the model, they all work on the same principle: centrifugal force.
FEEL THE FORCE
All spinners have a large plastic outer bowl, a slightly smaller plastic basket, and a top, which houses the set-in-motion mechanism. You toss the greens into the basket, run them under water, then slip the basket into the outer bowl, close the setup, and crank, pull, or pump to start the inner bowl spinning. As the basket turns, dependable centrifugal force flings the water out to the sides, where it's caught in the outer bowl. A minute of this, and you've got dry lettuce, arugula, leafy greens, or tender herbs. Had my mom had a spinner, she might have served us crisp green salad more often than soggy string beans.
CRANK IT UP
The crank spinner was the first salad spinner I remember seeing and the first one I owned. It had a crank on the top that you wound round and round to get the basket moving. In between starting and stopping, you had to hug the whole spinner with your non-cranking arm so that it didn't fly off the counter. And then, if you were too impatient (as I often was) to wait for the spinning to stop on its own, you had to hug it even harder and brace yourself to stop the crank and therefore the basket. (Sometimes, I found, you also had to say, 'Whoa.') Because the crank spinner was so much better than the backyard basket, I never complained. But now I think this model is best used in the mini-version (Copco makes a nice baby spinner for $15), a good option when you've got just a handful of greens or herbs.
THE CORD CONNECTION
Today I'm more likely to reach for the pull-cord or pump spinner. The pull-cord spinner looks like iffy business, but here looks are definitely deceiving. With this spinner you find a little ring dangling from the top — pull it, and you're off; a couple of pulls, and the greens are dry. For years I stayed away from this spinner, thinking its cord would never stand up to energetic yanking, but I was wrong to be a doubter. Zyliss, a Swiss company, makes a pull-cord spinner ($19) that has a pull-as-hard-as-you-want cord. The Zyliss spinner also has an outer bowl that's good-looking enough to serve as a salad bowl and, better yet, a plastic lid for the bowl so that you can store your greens until needed.
TAKE THE PLUNGE
The latest innovation in spinners is Oxo's Good Grips pump model ($27). The pump works just like a kid's old-fashioned top. You push the easy-to-plunge pump, and as you push, the basket starts spinning. Keep pushing, and the basket will keep spinning. Then, when you want to stop it, you can wait, of course, or you can just press the brake button. The pump and brake are ingenious, the design is handsome, and, like the Zyliss outer bowl, this one can be used for serving and for storing washed greens in the fridge.
After spinning around for a while, I thought I should check in with Mom to see which spinner she was using. 'Spinner?' she asked. 'I get washed and dried lettuce at the salad bar.' That's my mom.
— Adapted from an article by Dorie Greenspan, Bon Appétit, August 2001
No one ever mentioned athletic and my mother's name in the same breath. In the feminine vocabulary of my mom's generation, the word fit always referred to clothing. Yet even though my mother was a not-so-closeted candyholic, and despite the fact that she never race-walked, jogged, or swam, she was always trim. I think it must have been all that lettuce-drying that kept her in such great shape.
In the days when my mom was in charge of family meals, lettuce, usually iceberg, was washed in the kitchen sink and dropped into a mesh basket. Then it was spun dry in the backyard by whipping the basket around in arcs that would have made a slow-pitch hurler weep. (I never considered what backyardless moms did.)
Today there are more lettuces than iceberg and more ways to dry them than the strenuous propeller swing. Countless rotator cuffs have been saved by the salad spinner, an indispensable tool that comes in three models: crank, pull cord, and pump. But whatever the model, they all work on the same principle: centrifugal force.
FEEL THE FORCE
All spinners have a large plastic outer bowl, a slightly smaller plastic basket, and a top, which houses the set-in-motion mechanism. You toss the greens into the basket, run them under water, then slip the basket into the outer bowl, close the setup, and crank, pull, or pump to start the inner bowl spinning. As the basket turns, dependable centrifugal force flings the water out to the sides, where it's caught in the outer bowl. A minute of this, and you've got dry lettuce, arugula, leafy greens, or tender herbs. Had my mom had a spinner, she might have served us crisp green salad more often than soggy string beans.
CRANK IT UP
The crank spinner was the first salad spinner I remember seeing and the first one I owned. It had a crank on the top that you wound round and round to get the basket moving. In between starting and stopping, you had to hug the whole spinner with your non-cranking arm so that it didn't fly off the counter. And then, if you were too impatient (as I often was) to wait for the spinning to stop on its own, you had to hug it even harder and brace yourself to stop the crank and therefore the basket. (Sometimes, I found, you also had to say, 'Whoa.') Because the crank spinner was so much better than the backyard basket, I never complained. But now I think this model is best used in the mini-version (Copco makes a nice baby spinner for $15), a good option when you've got just a handful of greens or herbs.
THE CORD CONNECTION
Today I'm more likely to reach for the pull-cord or pump spinner. The pull-cord spinner looks like iffy business, but here looks are definitely deceiving. With this spinner you find a little ring dangling from the top — pull it, and you're off; a couple of pulls, and the greens are dry. For years I stayed away from this spinner, thinking its cord would never stand up to energetic yanking, but I was wrong to be a doubter. Zyliss, a Swiss company, makes a pull-cord spinner ($19) that has a pull-as-hard-as-you-want cord. The Zyliss spinner also has an outer bowl that's good-looking enough to serve as a salad bowl and, better yet, a plastic lid for the bowl so that you can store your greens until needed.
TAKE THE PLUNGE
The latest innovation in spinners is Oxo's Good Grips pump model ($27). The pump works just like a kid's old-fashioned top. You push the easy-to-plunge pump, and as you push, the basket starts spinning. Keep pushing, and the basket will keep spinning. Then, when you want to stop it, you can wait, of course, or you can just press the brake button. The pump and brake are ingenious, the design is handsome, and, like the Zyliss outer bowl, this one can be used for serving and for storing washed greens in the fridge.
After spinning around for a while, I thought I should check in with Mom to see which spinner she was using. 'Spinner?' she asked. 'I get washed and dried lettuce at the salad bar.' That's my mom.
— Adapted from an article by Dorie Greenspan, Bon Appétit, August 2001
