Olivier Salad: From Czarist Luxury to Family Tradition

In my family, Olivier salad or Russian Salad represents much more than a dish; it is a bridge between cultures, a tradition that unites our Russian and Mexican roots at the same table. How is this possible?

As a Mexican, I grew up with Russian salad at children’s parties and family gatherings. For me, Olivier salad was nothing more than a regular side dish, one of those dishes always there without questioning its origin. In fact, I never stopped to think if it was really Russian or if it simply bore that name, like the roller coaster, which in Russia is known as “American mountain”(американские горки), although its origin, curiously enough, is indeed Russian(History of the Russian Mountains).

However, since I got married, the Russian salad has taken on a completely different meaning. Every New Year at home, my husband prepares it following the ingredients of his childhood in Ukraine. Although it is very similar to the salad of my childhood, it also has differences: the ingredients of traditional Eastern European recipes are somewhat different, and even the preparation techniques are more careful (we don’t care so much about perfect vegetable cubes). But what stands out most is the emotional charge that accompanies this dish.

The Origins: A French Chef in the Heart of Russia

The history of this salad is quite interesting, although it became popular in Russia thanks to Lucien Olivier, there were already precedents of similar dishes in European haute cuisine, where cooked vegetables and mayonnaise were the protagonists. In 1845, chef Charles Elmé Francatelli, known for having been head chef to Queen Victoria, published a recipe book entitled The Modern Cook. In it, he mentioned a recipe called Russian salad, composed of luxurious ingredients such as lobster, anchovies, tuna, crab and capers, all combined with a red-colored mayonnaise that was tinted with shellfish coral (shellfish roe).

Years earlier, in 1815, Antonin Carême, the famous French chef considered the pioneer of modern haute cuisine, included in his book Le Pâtissier Royal Parisien a preparation called salade à la parisienne. This salad contained cooked mushrooms, carrots, peas, potatoes and beets, mixed with mayonnaise, which shows that the concept of mixing vegetables with this sauce already existed in France.

In the 19th century, Lucien Olivier, a French-Belgian chef who ran the Hermitage restaurant in Moscow, created a dish he called Olivier Salad that was much more than a salad, it was a gastronomic masterpiece. It was made with exotic meats such as grouse, venison, and even veal tongue, mixed with a Provençal sauce whose exact recipe Olivier took to his grave.

Russian salad was the centerpiece of the tables at the most exclusive dinners, a symbol of luxury and sophistication. During that time, the Russian aristocracy deeply admired French culture. At elegant dinners, French was spoken, authors such as Balzac and Victor Hugo were read, and French dishes, which were considered the pinnacle of gastronomy, were tasted.

The Transformation: From Exclusivity to the People

After Olivier’s death, his sous chef, Ivan Ivanov, attempted to replicate the recipe, although some say it was more of an interpretation than a faithful reproduction. Over time, and especially after the Revolution of 1917, the ingredients changed drastically. The restaurant closed, and the salad that was once an emblem of the Russian bourgeoisie began to transform into something much more accessible.

The Olivier salad we know today bears little resemblance to its original version. During the 20th century, the recipe was adapted to the times and circumstances: the grouse was replaced by chicken or sausage, the capers by canned peas, and the Provençal sauce by industrial mayonnaise. The ingredients were democratized, reflecting the social and economic changes of the time.

This transformation not only allowed the salad to survive, but also made it a symbol of celebration in many cultures. In Eastern European countries, it is a must at New Year’s. In Spain and Italy, for example, it appears at family gatherings. For example, in Spain and Italy, it appears at family gatherings, whether or not it is the Olivier salad or a background recipe, it became popular in these countries and many others in Europe. European migrants to the Americas brought with them their culinary history, and with them dishes such as Russian salad became popular in Latin America. In Mexico, during the Porfiriato period, French and Russian cuisine influenced elegant dinners and were a symbol of distinction.

From Mexico to Chile, each family has its own version of Russian salad, adapted to local ingredients, but keeping its purpose: to be part of the most special celebrations.

More Than a Recipe: A Symbol of Resilience and Connection

What inspires me most about the Olivier salad is its ability to adapt without losing its essence. It has survived revolutions, wars and migrations. Although the ingredients and preparations change, it remains a symbol of togetherness, exclusivity (it is only served on special occasions) and resilience.

In my house, this salad has found a new place in our traditions. Every New Year, when my husband prepares it, I feel our cultures intertwine at the same table. For him, it is a memory of his childhood in Ukraine; for me, a link to my childhood holidays in Mexico. And for our children, it is a symbol of their shared roots and proof that traditions can evolve, grow and adapt, just as we do.

The Olivier salad story reminds us that change does not mean loss, but evolution. Just as this recipe has crossed generations and continents, we too can transform ourselves and celebrate life with what we have. With every plate of salad there is a message of hope: even if our circumstances change, we can preserve the essentials. In the end, what matters is not the exact ingredients, but the act of sharing, celebrating, and creating memories together.