Dandelion Salad

Ranhofer gives this as a cross-reference rather than a full method: the point of the entry is the leaf and how it is grown, not the dressing. What follows is what a cook needs to make sense of it.

• The hinge: blanchingEverything here depends on excluding light. Dandelion roots lifted in autumn and forced in a dark cellar throw pale, tender leaves with a fraction of the bitterness of green ones. A dark cupboard, a cardboard box or an upturned pot over a garden crown does the same thing over two to three weeks.
• "Monk's beard" in this bookRanhofer's monk's beard is almost certainly barbe de capucin, chicory root forced in the dark for its blanched leaves, rather than the Italian barba di frate (agretti) sold under the same English name today. The method for it is at No. 2674, which this entry simply points to.
• The dressing impliedA nineteenth-century green salad dressing is generally oil, vinegar, salt and pepper, commonly around three parts oil to one of vinegar, mixed at the last moment. Bitter leaves take a slightly sharper hand than lettuce, and mustard in the vinegar is not out of period.
• Wild leavesIf gathering rather than forcing, take rosettes before the flower stalk appears; once the plant bolts the leaves turn aggressively bitter. Avoid verges, lawns and parks that may have been sprayed or treated.
• Washing and dryingCellar-grown and garden dandelion both carry grit at the base of the rosette. Trim the crown, soak in several changes of cold water, then dry thoroughly, since wet leaves will not hold a vinaigrette.
• Wild chicory, the thing it replacesThe recipe positions dandelion as a winter stand-in for wild chicory. The two substitute well for each other in a salad calling for bitter greens; escarole hearts and Belgian endive will also serve, though they are milder.
• YieldNo quantity is given. Reckon about 2 oz (roughly 60 g) of trimmed leaves per person as a salad course, dressed just before serving.