How I Found the La Scala Chopped Salad

There’s this moment every summer when I want something bright, crunchy, and a little tangy for dinner but not fussy. The La Scala Chopped Salad was my answer the year I decided salads could be the main event, not just a side. I first tasted a version of it at a little trattoria and then tracked down variations until I settled on a version that feels like home. If you like a salad with substance, you might also appreciate an antipasti chopped salad for a similar satisfying bite.

The Ingredient List That Keeps Me Coming Back

This salad is simple but every ingredient plays a role. I usually tell friends: grab 1 head of romaine lettuce, chopped, and throw in 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved. Add 1 cucumber, diced, plus 1 bell pepper, diced for sweetness and crunch. A 1/2 red onion, finely chopped, gives that little sting that ties it together. For protein and texture I like 1 cup cooked chickpeas; the feta is nonnegotiable for creaminess so measure out 1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled. A few briny bites from 1/4 cup olives, sliced, make it feel restaurant-grade. And for the dressing: 1/4 cup olive oil, 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar, 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, and salt and pepper to taste. The colors alone—deep green romaine, ruby tomatoes, pale cucumbers, purple onion, and white feta—are enough to make me smile before I even toss anything.

A Few Tricks to Get It Right Every Time

When I assemble this, I do the salad and the dressing almost like a duet. Often I’ll prep everything the night before if I’m hosting, but I keep the lettuce and dressing separate so nothing goes limp. When it’s time, I follow the cooking directions exactly because it’s that straightforward: In a large bowl, combine the chopped romaine, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, bell pepper, red onion, chickpeas, feta cheese, and olives. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt, and pepper. Drizzle the dressing over the salad and toss to combine. Serve immediately as a main dish or on the side with your favorite protein.

A tip I always share is to dry the romaine well after washing; water dilutes the dressing and makes the salad soggy. I use a salad spinner and then pat any stubborn moisture with a towel. Another trick is to chop things roughly the same size so every forkful has balance—small enough to be forkable but not so small the texture disappears. If you like a little more acidity, add another half teaspoon of red wine vinegar to the dressing; if you want it creamier, a small spoonful of mayonnaise or Greek yogurt tamed with lemon will do the trick, though I usually skip that.

You’ll know it’s done right when the romaine snaps when you bite into it, the chickpeas are tender but intact, and the feta melts slightly into the dressing rather than clumping up. The aroma is a simple olive oil and vinegar perfume with a hint of mustard. When the colors are vivid and the dressing glazes everything evenly, you’re there.

The Best Part About This Dish and How I Serve It

I love this recipe because it feels both indulgent and virtuous. It has enough protein from the chickpeas and enough fat from the olive oil and feta that I can eat it as the main dish on a weeknight without feeling like I missed dinner. My favorite way to serve it is alongside grilled shrimp or a pan-roasted salmon, but it’s also stellar next to a thick slice of toasted bread rubbed with garlic. For busy days when time vanishes, I’ll pair it with a quick canned tuna salad—if you want a protein swap, check out my old standby 10-minute Mediterranean tuna salad for inspiration.

A variation I make when I want a Mediterranean twist is to add a handful of chopped fresh herbs—parsley and mint are winners. In colder months I sometimes fold in roasted sweet potato cubes for warmth and a sweet contrast. If you want to skip chickpeas, white beans work beautifully, or swap the feta for grilled halloumi for a smoky, squeaky finish. These variations keep the core intact but let you bend the salad to the season or mood.

When Things Don’t Go As Planned and Leftovers

Once, early in my salad career, I tossed everything together hours before guests arrived and ended up with a limp, weepy mess. Since then I prep separately: vegetables chopped and chilled, dressing whisked and kept in a jar, feta crumbled last minute. If you have leftovers, store the salad in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to two days, but keep the dressing separate if you can; it’s the simplest way to maintain crunch. If the salad has already been dressed, a quick spin or fold with a fresh handful of romaine revives it somewhat. Another storage tip: if you know you’ll want leftovers, reserve half the dressing and add it only to the portion you’ll eat that day.

When things go sideways, like an unexpectedly bitter pepper or a too-sharp onion, a little more olive oil and a light sprinkle of sugar or honey tames it without ruining the vinaigrette. Also, if your chickpeas seem dry, a splash of warm water and a minute in a hot skillet will soften them and bring back some creaminess.

Ways I Make It Faster and Some Small Rituals

For weeknights I chop everything in one go and keep it in separate containers. Then, when dinner time hits, I just combine and dress. I find that using a ceramic or wooden bowl helps keep the salad cool and gives the tossing a softer sound—yes, I notice the sound of a salad being tossed. If I’m feeling indulgent, I’ll add toasted pine nuts for crunch or a spoonful of sun-dried tomatoes for a chewy, concentrated hit.

Little rituals matter: tasting as you go, adjusting salt last because feta is salty, and always, always slicing the cherry tomatoes so their sweetness bursts without squashing them into mush. These small habits have become part of the experience for me, and that’s why I still make the La Scala Chopped Salad on repeat.

Conclusion

If you want the original inspiration I tweaked and fell in love with, the Famous La Scala Chopped Salad is a great place to start and compare notes.