This is going to gross out a lot of you, so just admit you're wimps and bail. The rest of you can stick around to read about slimy salad.
Oh, it was good. It came about because we had one of the best, most gelatinous batches of chicken stock, ever. Bones bashed with a cleaver. Slow extraction on low heat for four hours. Tons of flavor. And, expectedly, vivid liveliness. Chilled. Sturdy gellaciousness.
So, the salad was just baby romaine with hacked radishes and chopped roast chicken. Tossed with a mild oil and vinegar. Salted and peppered.
Then, brilliant brain thought kicked in. "This would taste really good with some of that chicken stock."
Chicken stock is not part of salad dressing, is it? (Tell me, if you know.)
The rich soup, in its coagulated state, would be so fun, so funny, spooned over a salad. Little cold spoonfuls. Bites of slippery umami. Mouthfuls of jiggly yum. That's what I thought.
That's what I think.