Winter veg has a branding problem. We picture beige trays of overcooked roots, a sad bag of leaves clinging to life, and a dressing that tastes like a drizzle of duty. The cold months can flatten our appetite for anything green. This salad flips that script with heat, crunch and a glow of citrus that feels like sunlight sneaking in through a grey British afternoon.
Back home, the oven door puffed out a sweet breath as squash halves went in, and a pan hissed where apple cider vinegar met miso and maple, the perfume of toast and orange zest rising like a promise. I massaged kale with a thumb of olive oil and a pinch of salt until it softened, almost sighing. Then I layered warmth over bitterness, sweetness over smoke, and waited a beat before tasting. Something clicked.
The winter salad that tastes like a small holiday
Here’s the big idea: winter salad shouldn’t be cold. It should be warm enough to fog the window a little, built like a good coat—layers, texture, pockets of surprise. Roast roots and charred onions meet crisp leaves and slices of citrus, then a dressing that lands with heat, not a chill. The bite is lively. The colours sing. The bowl looks like it has a plot twist.
Last week, I took this to a midweek potluck where lasagne usually wins without trying. The salad disappeared first, fork by fork, a quiet queue forming at the table while the garlic bread cooled. One friend—famously anti-salad—went back for thirds and messaged the next morning asking for the dressing “that tastes like a warm handshake.” There was a moment where we all looked at the empty bowl, slightly baffled, then smiled. Winter, briefly, felt generous.
Why it works is simple and slightly nerdy. Warmth wakes up aroma compounds, so roasted veg and a warmed dressing deliver more flavour to your nose and brain. Bitter leaves like radicchio and kale give edge, while sweet squash and beetroot round the corners. Citrus adds acid and perfume; toasted nuts add fat and crunch. This is contrast choreography: hot/cool, soft/crisp, sweet/bitter, creamy/zingy. Your palate stays curious, your body gets a proper meal, and you don’t miss the heavy stuff. Not for a second.
How to build it so you crave it
Start with the roast. Cut squash (kabocha, crown prince or butternut) into thick wedges and toss with olive oil, salt, pepper and smoked paprika. Add beetroot and red onions in hunks. Roast at 200°C until caramelised at the edges and tender inside. While they go, slice radicchio into ribbons, tear Tuscan kale from the stems, and massage the kale with a splash of oil and a pinch of salt for 30 seconds. Segment two clementines or a blood orange over a bowl to catch the juices. Toast a handful of hazelnuts and pumpkin seeds until fragrant.
Make the warm dressing. In a small pan, whisk a spoon of white miso with a knob of tahini, a dash of maple syrup, the citrus juices, apple cider vinegar and a glug of olive oil. Heat gently until it loosens and steams, then grate in garlic and a little orange zest. Season until it tastes like you want to drink it. Toss the warm veg with half the dressing. Tumble in the leaves, citrus segments and pickled red onion if you have it. Finish with the rest of the dressing, then scatter herbs, nuts and seeds. Serve while it’s still breathing warmth.
Common pitfalls are less about skill and more about timing. Fridge-cold leaves dull flavour; bring them to room temperature so they play nicely with warm veg. Overdressing makes the whole thing slump, so add in stages and taste between each. And don’t skip the crunch. A crouton shower, shards of baked parmesan, even broken crispbread—texture makes the bowl feel abundant rather than worthy. Let’s be honest: nobody actually does that every day. But when you do, it matters to your senses. I wanted something that felt like a hug, not homework.
“The trick,” a London greengrocer told me, “is to think in temperatures, not just ingredients. Warm your flavours and people lean in.”
- Swap-ins: radicchio for chicory, kale for cavolo nero, squash for sweet potato, hazelnuts for almonds.
- Protein pop: roast chickpeas with cumin, add torn roast chicken, or crumble in feta or tempeh.
- Make-ahead: roast veg and toast nuts earlier; warm the dressing to bring it back to life.
- Little luxury: pomegranate seeds, a drizzle of chilli oil, or a spoon of yogurt swirled with lemon.
The bigger appetite shift
We’ve all had that moment when a “healthy” option feels like a small punishment with cutlery. This salad changes the mood because it respects what winter bodies want: depth, warmth, satisfaction, colour that punctures the grey. It doesn’t apologise for being a salad. It behaves like dinner, with enough character to hold its own next to a roast, or to steal the spotlight at lunch. Share it with people who think salad is a summer fling, then watch what happens.
| Key points | Detail | Reader Interest |
|---|---|---|
| Warm the dressing |
