Hold the Mayo

I know there is a strong cadre of mayonnaise haters out there. You're really passionate people. I wouldn't exactly call myself a hater per se, but I only care for mayo in small doses. Maybe that makes me mayo adverse? I love chicken salad, for instance, but I end up grilling the poor waiter about how much mayo is in their recipe and am usually filled with great distrust when the server assures me "it's not too mayonnaise-y." And for the record, most of the time they're liars. Typically I'll take a good mustard on a sandwich, and eschew most mayonnaise-based salads because someone in the kitchen is usually mayonnaise happy. [Btw, I think these are also the sample people who dress the salads.] With most dishes, I think the whole should be greater than the sum of the parts. Therefore excessive mayo doesn't work in that equation—and I'm not even that good in math. 

As the weather warms and summer nears, I've had picnics on my mind. On the weekends, I usually run by the Santa Barbara Mission, which has a beautiful rose garden adjacent to it. People tend to flock there on the weekends to picnic. It's the kind of place that invites you to linger and never really feels crowded, with people somehow carving out little slices of privacy to enjoy the views and the company of friends or family along with a nibble and a glass of wine. But picnics can kind of be tricky because you need dishes you can make ahead of time, transport easily, are unfussy to serve, and can hold up for a few hours. The classic Waldorf salad is often suggested, yet often causes me to raise my eyes. Do people really eat that? 

Yes, I know it's a famous salad concocted by Oscar Tchirky, the maître d'hôtel of New York's Waldorf Astoria, in 1893 and is now served by many restaurants and delis as a lunch staple. My narrow-minded opinion is that it's a few fairly uninteresting ingredients, such as red apple, celery, and walnuts, slathered in mayonnaise. Oh and it also has raisins in it. The only time I really want to eat raisins is in an oatmeal cookie and even then I'd prefer chocolate chips. 

But the recipe in the June issue of Ladies' Home Journal made me reconsider. Well, maybe I should give credit to the food stylist and photographer. They presented their "All-New Waldorf Salad," which appeared to contain nary a drop of mayo in it. Whereas I'd usually be thinking, "Next..." as I turned the page, this vibrant salad caught my eye. This interesting version was comprised of colorful pieces of apple, radicchio, and dried cranberries tossed with the requisite walnuts and celery but mixed with a hint of honeyed Greek yogurt dressing instead of the usual mayonnaise. OK, that sounded like something even the mayo adverse might like.

So I made it last weekend. And guess what? I liked it. A lot. And so did a lot of other people—even kids. As such, I must rescind my previous position on the Waldorf. It is something people eat. And even more people—including the mayonnaise haters of the world—would probably eat it and enjoy Waldorf salad if this recipe was used.

Happy Memorial Day weekend! In the words of Joseph Campbell, "A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself." Thank you to all the heroes who serve or have served. You are appreciated and remembered by this Army Brat. 


All-New Waldorf Salad

Ingredients
1/2 cup (4 oz) plain Greek yogurt (non-fat is fine)
2 1/2 tsp honey
1 tsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 ground black pepper
1/2 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
3/4 cup thinly sliced celery
1/3 cup dried cranberries
1/2 head of radicchio, roughly chopped
1 sweet apple, cored and chopped

Directions
Whisk together the yogurt, honey, lemon juice, salt and pepper. Add the remaining ingredients and toss to combine. Chill until ready to eat. Serves 8
Note: I did have to do a little "maneuvering" on this recipe. I added more celery and apple to get the right ratio and then added some more honey and lemon juice for my personal taste. So start with the recipe as a base but be prepared to tweak if needed. 

LA

Last weekend I was in LA with my family. That's Lower Alabama not Los Angeles for those who aren't that familiar with the Redneck Riviera. About 40 of us descended upon my grandmother's house outside Mobile for the Harwood family reunion, which we always celebrate on Mother's Day weekend. 

It's a trek for me to get there, but it's worth it! Here are a few reasons why:

1. I'm so lucky to be able to hang out with my 93-year-old grandmother. 

2. I get my Southern food fix.

3. People talk just like I do there. 

4. No one thinks it's weird to drink a Coke for breakfast.

5. It's like being on set during the filming of Duck Dynasty. My sides hurt from laughing so hard.

While the main event is the fish fry on Saturday for dinner (which down South is actually lunch because dinner is called supper—confused yet?), I timed my arrival on Friday perfectly and pulled up right as the Low Country Boil was being served. Well, I guess to be geographically correct, you'd have to call it Low Alabama Boil. This one-pot wonder is comprised of potatoes, corn, smoked sausage and shrimp (or crawfish if they're in season) boiled in a spicy broth. It doesn't hurt to add some herb butter to it either. 

With a crew this large, there is no such thing as a little amount of food. My grandmother says she "just makes a lot" because God forbid anyone leaves hungry. In truth, the only thing anyone leaves with is an extra 5 lbs. I don't know how large a pot we used but I know we had 15 lbs of shrimp alone in it. This dish is great for a crowd and is downright effortless to make—not to mention effortless to eat. Well, I mean you do have to peel your own shrimp but that doesn't really take all that much effort.

And we do it classy down in LA with newspaper table cloths and rolls of paper towels for napkins. It's been a long time since I had a Busch Light beer (read the ratings here and see what you're missing), but it was actually the perfect beverage for such a feast.  

Other highlights of the weekend were:

The family tree we made on a paper napkin

The four Harwood sisters

Fresh oysters on the half shell

"Now we're cooking in peanut oil!" which means it's all good, like jalapeño hush puppies

The perfect plate

Homemade peach and blueberry cobbler 

I hope you had as much fun celebrating moms as I did! 

Love you, Monk!

Low Country Boil

Ingredients

1 3-oz package extra-spicy boil-in-the-bag crab boil 

1 12-oz bottle pale ale beer

1 lemon, cut in half

3 lbs baby red potatoes 

2 lbs mild smoked sausage (i.e. keilbasa), cut into 2-in pieces

6 ears of corn, cut into thirds

4 lbs unpeeled, uncooked medium shrimp

Cocktail sauce for serving

Directions

Combine the first three ingredients and 5 quarts of water in a 12-quart covered stock pot. Bring to a rolling boil over medium heat. Add potatoes and sausage; cover and cook 10 minutes. Add corn; cover and cook 5 minutes. 

Add shrimp; cover and cook 2 minutes. Remove from heat. Let stand covered for 10 minutes. Drain. Serve with cocktail sauce. Serves 10-12.

Cake to Covet

Some people fantasize about dessert. I'm not one of them. I fantasize about pizza and Pappy Van Winkle 23-year old. But dessert? Not until now. I've long believed there are two kinds of people: sweet or savory. I'm definitely in the savory camp. I'd covet a croissant over a cupcake any day. But then I was introduced to the olive oil cake....

I'm perhaps the anomaly who prefers the after dinner drink instead of the after dinner dessert. But a few months ago I lunched with some ladies who are foodies with impeccable taste and when they ordered a dessert to share I half sat up with interest. I knew it would be good because they only do good. But still it had to be a really good dessert to get me to dig my fork into it. Plus it seemed too borderline alcoholic to order an "after dinner drink" when it was only 1 pm.

They brought this out . . .

. . . and I literally almost came fisticuffs with my lunch mates over who could have the last bite of this olive oil cake. It was served over a pistachio pesto, I think, with some perfectly sweet yet firm pears on top. It was amazingly sublime. For me, the perfect amount of yummy savory with the right kiss of sweetness. It was dense yet airy unlike a pound cake but the olive oil added a richness to it you normally don't find in a pound cake. It was incredibly delicious and also incredibly memorable. 

So when I saw a recipe for a blood orange olive oil cake on this site shortly after my olive oil cake introduction, I felt like it was a sign from the gods. I needed to make this cake.   

Although I consider myself a polished person, I'm very drawn to rustic desserts. Nothing too fancy or frilly (as if the added icing and panache is covering up for a lack of taste). But the truth of the matter is I'm lazy and don't like the fussiness and precision required of most baking. So I love trying to capitalize on the concept of the homemade dessert being less than perfect in presentation but over the top in taste. Honestly I think this delivers. It's kind of a stroke of genius. It feels very grown up and sophisticated. The crunchy outer layer and super moist interior offers the right amount of indulgence yet is so light. The addition of blood oranges pretty much seals the deal. 

I do admit I'm a bit enamored with anything involving blood oranges. I don't know why but God are they sexy. Seemingly exotic and a tad out of your (fruit) league, they offer a unique favor profile. As expected they are citrusy but have an almost raspberry flavor. And don't even get me started on their gorgeous color. This recipe showcases the blood orange in a number of ways: the zest, the juice and the segments. It's easy on the eyes for sure and also easy on the palate.

It's a cake with character and class but like your friend who rolls out of bed, dresses effortlessly and looks enviably cool (not a cake with a stylist and crew who spent hours fawning over you to make you look like you stepped out of a fashion magazine).

While you should use a good olive oil in this recipe (because the quality does influence the taste), the actual cake doesn't taste like olive oil. It's more of a cross between an angel food cake and a pound cake. But way more interesting—in both taste and texture. I'd go with something light and fruity, and definitely nothing peppery. And I stole the idea from the restaurant to drizzle the cake with good honey for serving. I personally love this brand. I think it does add a final note of perfection. Serve it with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream, but it's pretty great solo too. 

In the south, butter is the standard for cooking and baking, but in the Mediterranean cooking with olive oil is common. And cooking with olive oil makes it seem healthier than butter because it's a "healthy fat," right?! That's the lie I told myself as I ate my third slice....

Blood Orange Olive Oil Cake
from Melissa Clark's In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite

Ingredients
6 blood oranges
1 cup sugar
Buttermilk or plain yogurt (less than a cup)
3 large eggs
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
Honey and vanilla ice cream (or whipped cream) for serving

Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan. Grate the zest from 2 oranges and place in a bowl with the sugar. Using your fingers, rub the ingredients together until the orange zest is evenly distributed in the sugar. 

2. Peel and cut the orange segments from 2 blood oranges. This technique is called "supreming." This is done by cutting off the bottom and top of the orange so the fruit can stand upright on a cutting board. Cut away the peel and pith, following the curve of the fruit with your sharp knife. Cut the orange segments out of their connective membranes and place in a small bowl. 

3. Half one of the remaining oranges and squeeze the juice into a measuring cup. You should have about 1/4 of a cup of juice. Add enough buttermilk or yogurt to the juice until you have 2/3 cup of liquid. Pour the mixture into the bowl with the sugar and whisk well. Whisk in the eggs until well incorporated. 

4. In another bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt). Gently whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ones. Switch to a spatula and fold in the olive oil a little at a time. Fold in the orange segments and then scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top. 

5. Bake the cake for about 55 minutes, or until golden brown and a knife inserted into the center comes out clean. I'd start checking around 50 minutes. Cool on a rack for 5 minutes, then unmold and cool to room temperature right side up. 

6. To serve, supreme the remaining blood oranges and mix them with 1 Tbsp of honey. Spoon the ice cream (or whipped cream) onto a slice of cake, top with some blood oranges and drizzle with more honey. 

MIA Asparagus

Today is May 1st. What. The. Eff. Wasn't Easter just last weekend?! I guess not, but I'm going to tell you about mine anyway because it seems like it should have been. We have pretty nice weather nearly year-round in Santa Barbara (I know, punch me in my face), and it's usually particularly spectacular for Easter, which is a bonus because I always host a brunch. And by brunch, I mean entertaining and feeding 20+ people outdoors. But this year we woke up to a gray and rainy Easter—not very helpful for a party where 50% of the guests are under the age of 5. (Let me just say the Bloody Marys and mimosas went fast. . . .) It's also not ideal conditions to host a peeps regatta, which is the climax of the Easter brunch. 

You can read about it here and here and here, but it's basically a race where each person decorates a peep and then they "swim" a lap around the pool. Whomever wins gets bragging rights and a 24 oz solid chocolate bunny. 

Since it seems like no one over the age of 4 has ever won, parents are not too stoked on the winner's "purse." But it's Easter after all so really what's another 1437 grams of sugar?

Anyway, another highlight is my friend Meredith's amazing cake. She is giving Duff the Cake Boss a run for his money. Last year it was a giant peep cake. This year it was a mega chocolate bunny (with his head cut off, which didn't seem to phase the kids in the least). It was truly a culinary feat carved out of 15 individual cakes.

Since I host this brunch annually, I kind of have the menu down pat, but I do try to switch up a few items each year. This year I planned to make an asparagus salad with lentils and oranges. It seemed perfect for Spring and a brunch because it could be made early in the morning and would hold up well. 

It's always a bit of a fire drill when you're hosting a party, though, and it's not unusual that I forget to do something or put something out. This event was no exception. I was super excited about this beautifully composed salad which would allow the main ingredient—the ASPARAGUS—to really shine. 

I had everything on the table and ready for the guests to arrive when I turned around and noticed 4 POUNDS of ASPARAGUS cooked and chopped and ready for the ASPARAGUS salad sitting in a colander IN THE SINK. That's right. The ASPARAGUS for the ASPARAGUS salad was not IN the ASPARAGUS salad. Blonde!!!

For a second, I did ponder whether or not I could convert the asparagus into party favors ("Thank you for coming. Please enjoy the steamed asparagus as a gesture of my appreciation."), but then I wanted people to come back in the future. So I bit the bullet and dumped my beautifully composed salad into an enormous bowl and tried the best I could to incorporate the ASPARAGUS for the ASPARAGUS salad INTO the actual ASPARAGUS salad. Granted it didn't look as pretty as the original salad did but it looked fine and definitely tasted more than fine. 

It's a really delicious and well balanced salad (or vegetarian entree). The asparagus are crisp, the lentils add some texture and "body," the fennel delivers an undertone of freshness, and the citrus provides the perfect pop of acid. The Champagne-shallot vinaigrette brought it all together and really infused the individual ingredients with the perfect sweet-tang. 

I would definitely make this again. It would be perfect for a Kentucky Derby party (which is THIS Saturday!!!), Mother's Day brunch (which is NEXT Sunday), a picnic or even a potluck supper. I would just remind you to make sure you put the asparagus IN the asparagus salad. Minor detail. 


Asparagus, Orange and Lentil Salad
from Southern Living

Ingredients
1 medium-sized fennel bulb
2 large oranges, peeled and sliced (I used pink Cara Cara's and blood oranges for color variety)
1/4 tsp freshly ground pepper
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt, divided
2 lbs fresh asparagus
1 1/2 cup green lentils (or pink if you can find them)
Champagne-shallot vinaigrette (recipe follows)
2 cups assorted lettuces, chopped
1/2 cup loosely packed flat-leaf parsley 

Directions
1. Rinse fennel thoroughly. Trim and discard root end of bulb. Trim stalks from bulb and chop fronds to equal 1/4 cup; reserve stalks and remaining fronds for another use. Thinly slice bulb and toss with oranges, pepper and 1/2 tsp salt. Cover and let stand until ready to use. 
2. Meanwhile, cut asparagus into 1 1/2-inch pieces. Cut stalks diagonally into thin slices, discarding tough stems. Bring 3 cups of water and 1/2 tsp salt to a boil in a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add asparagus and cook 1 to 2 minutes or until crisp-tender; drain. Plunge into ice water to stop the cooking process; drain. Pat dry with paper towels. 
3. Bring 3 cups water and remaining 1/2 tsp salt to a boil in a saucepan over medium heat. Add lentils; return to a boil. Reduce heat to low and cook, stirring often, 8 to 10 minutes or until crisp-tender. Drain well and rinse with cold water. [Note: These can be cooked the day before and stored covered in the refrigerator.] Toss lentils with 1/4 cup vinaigrette. 
4. Combine lettuces, parsley, asparagus, fennel mixture, and fennel fronds in a large bowl. toss with remaining vinaigrette. Spoon lentils over a serving platter; top with asparagus mixture. 
Yields: 8 cups but can easily be doubled

Champagne-Shallot Vinaigrette
Whisk together 3 Tbsp Champagne vinegar, 1 Tbsp finely chopped shallots, 2 tsp honey, 2 tsp Dijon mustard, 1/2 tsp kosher salt, and 1/4 tsp ground pepper in a small bowl. Gradually whisk in 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil until blended. 

Well-Preserved

I'm sure you might think this blog title references my well-preserved liver, thanks to my shattering devotion to bourbon. However, I'm actually talking about an ingredient I've become somewhat obsessed with over the past year: preserved lemons. Grilled octopus with white beans and preserved lemons? Yes, please. Chicken braised with preserved lemons? Definitely. Pasta with roasted chickpeas and preserved lemons? Pass me seconds. I've eaten Rocky Mountain oysters before, which are fried bull testicles and are disgusting, but if you figured out how to incorporate preserved lemons in the dish, I'd probably order them. 

For whatever reason, I can't get enough of preserved lemons of late. Well, that's not true. I know the reason. They pretty much make every dish taste freaking awesome. They're the difference between, "That was good chicken" to "That chicken was so good it just blew my mind." And to get the results, you basically just have to open a jar and toss some of the contents into a pan. It's embarrassingly easy to transform a good dish into an out-of-this-world dish. Usually that requires some crazy ingredient that's impossible to source in the middle of winter, or cooking something for 5 hours over low heat, or finally getting your grandmother to share her secret recipe. But this? Seriously, you open a jar. 

So after coming out of my recent cooking coma and having overdosed on these (which by the way are damn good. Am I the last person to discover these gems?) . . . 

Convenient food crack

. . . I figured it was time I cooked some protein. But why cook just any protein when you can have out-of-this-world protein? I'm sure you're surprised to hear that I went for a protein dish involving preserved lemons, the wonder culinary drug. 

What? Cinnamon in a savory dish?!

The selection: Chicken Tagine with Preserved Lemon and Olives. This is not a traditional tagine cooked in a Moroccan clay vessel for hours. It definitely evokes North African flavors but is still approachable. While I'd love to jet to Morocco to taste the real thing, this version is a healthy, flavorful recipe you can make in the real world of home kitchens and busy schedules. Though chicken thighs are higher in fat content than breasts, they are smaller, juicier, way more flavorful and harder to overcook. The end result: a succulent dish served in a slightly sweet sauce accented with cinnamon and ginger. 

Saffron, more expensive than gold. Not really, thanks to Trader Joe's.

As I write about this, I realize this is probably the least Southern dish I can think of, but boy is it an incredibly satisfying one. Olives? Those are something you put in a martini. Cinnamon? That goes in a dessert. Cilantro is generally eschewed unless you've been lucky enough to get access to real Mexican food in your town and even then you wouldn't want your neighbors to see you eating it. Honestly, I can envision my grandmother seeing this plate in front of her and saying, "What on Earth?!" but I know she'd love it because if anything we like good, flavorful food down South. If you can't taste it, why eat it?! 

The good kind of acid.

If I were to make this dish again—I mean when I make this dish again because I will—I would probably add a can of chickpeas, along with some golden raisins or chopped dried apricots. I think they would lend a nice creaminess and sweet note to round out the dish. If you are a cilantro hater (I know there are plenty of you out there), then you may want to add a dollop of plain yogurt in its place to add a little zing and contrast. My only other note is that preserved lemons are salty so be careful about adding a lot of salt to the dish as you cook because you probably won't need it. 

The dreaded cilantro. I promise, it really doesn't taste like soap.

Preserved lemons may not be found in every grocery store, but they're worth seeking out or even making (because they're ridiculously easy to make and you'll feel like a gourmet rockstar as a result). Next thing you know, you'll be obsessed too! 

Let's be honest. There is no way to make raw meat look sexy.

Chicken Tagine with Preserved Lemons and Olives
adapted from the Amateur Gourmet

Ingredients
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 red onion, thinly sliced lengthwise
3 garlic cloves, mashed into a paste with salt (chop, add some salt to the cutting board and press with the side of your knife)
2 tsp ground ginger (or fresh)
1/2 tsp saffron softened in a tiny bit of water
1 tsp of cinnamon
Juice of 1/2 lemon (regular)
1 small preserved lemon, finely chopped
2 Tbsp fresh Italian parsley, chopped
Small bunch of cilantro, chopped
6 chicken thighs
3 Tbsp Kalamata olives
Couscous for serving

Directions
1. Heat a heavy-bottomed skillet with a lid or Dutch oven on low heat and add the oil, onion and a pinch of salt. Allow the onions to cook about 7-10 minutes until translucent. 
2. Add the garlic, ginger, saffron with water, and cinnamon, followed by the lemon juice, preserved lemon. Then add the parsley and 2 Tbsp chopped cilantro. 
3. Arrange the chicken on top and scatter over the olives. Pour 1 cup water into the pan, cover tightly and simmer very gently for 45 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. 
4. Serve over couscous and topped with more chopped cilantro leaves.
Serves 4

Best-Ever

I jokingly made a comment on Facebook that I'd given up cooking for Lent. Not really, but it's certainly felt like it. I swear I have not cooked a meal in what feels like a solid month. Part of the reason has been business travel/commitments and a string of social gatherings. Another part of it has been sheer laziness. Some days it feels like the only thing I can "cook" is a delivery pizza or something from the grocery store salad bar. I finally reached my breaking point on Sunday and knew I needed to get back into the kitchen.

But if you're going to break the cooking blackout and go to the effort of making something, it had better be awesome. Maybe even best-ever. I mean, go big or go home, right? Well, Food and Wine magazine recently printed a list of the 20 best recipes they've EVER published. . . in 35 years. That's an impressive short list to say the least. So I'd say Jamie Oliver's roasted carrot and avocado salad with citrus dressing, which Food and Wine magazine bequeathed the title of Best-Ever First-Course Salad, seemed to fit the bill.

It seemed simple enough, but I guess what makes it so great is the transformation of seemingly ordinary ingredients into an out-of-this-world dish. Something that makes you pause and think, "Wow, this is effing ridiculous! How did they do this?!" That was basically my reaction when I tasted it. And I claim no credit other than being able to read and follow a recipe. The ingredients aren't that novel, but it's the way he combined them—in an unfamiliar yet incredible way—that makes this salad really stand out.

I'm tempted to make every single other "best-ever recipe" because if this simple salad is any indication of what I'm in for, I may never leave my kitchen again!

Roasted Carrot and Avocado Salad with Citrus Dressing
from Food and Wine

Ingredients
1 lb small carrots (preferably with tops but trimmed)
2 tsp cumin seeds
1 fresh chile de arbol or other small red chile (I used a jalapeño)
Kosher salt and pepper
2 garlic cloves
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
1/3 cup plus 2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
3 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1 orange, halved
1 lemon, halved
4  1/2-inch slices of ciabatta bread
3 Hass avocados, pitted, peeled and cut into chunks or wedges (do this right before serving so they don't brown)
8 oz assorted greens, such as watercress, spinach or mesclun
2 cups baby arugula
2 Tbsp unsalted roasted sunflower seeds
1 Tbsp roasted sesame seeds
1 Tbsp poppy seeds
3 Tbsp low-fat sour cream mixed with 1 Tbsp water

Directions
1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Bring a deep skillet of salted water to a boil. Add the carrots and simmer, covered, over moderately low heat until crisp tender, about 10 minutes. Drain and transfer carrots to a large roasting pan. 
2. In a mortar, crush the cumin seeds, chile de arbol, 1/2 tsp of salt and 1/4 tsp pepper. Add the garlic and thyme and pound into a paste. Stir in the 2 Tbsp of the oil and 2 Tbsp of the red wine vinegar.
3. Pour the cumin dressing over the carrots and toss. Add the orange and lemon halves cut side down to the roasting pan. Roast for about 25 minutes, until the carrots are crisp. The cooking time depends on how thick your carrots are. 
4. Meanwhile toast the ciabatta bread until the edges are brown. Tear the bread into bite-sized pieces and, in a large bowl, gently toss with the avocados, greens and arugula. In a small bowl, combine the sunflower, sesame and poppy seeds. 
5. Using tongs, squeeze the hot orange and lemon halves into a measuring cup until you have about 1/3 cup of juice. Whisk in the remaining 1 Tbsp of red wine vinegar and 1/3 cup of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Add the warm carrots to the bowl along with the citrus dressing and toss to coast. 
6. Transfer the salad to plates and drizzle with sour cream mixture and sprinkle seeds on top. Serves: 6