This Za'atar-Feta Caesar Salad May Be the Best Yet—Just Ask Our Editors

With summer here, soups and stews give way to spritzes, crisp salads, and meals made to be eaten outdoors under the sun. And while I, like most people, love a classic Caesar, the warmer months push me toward making something even brighter—a Caesar salad that leans on tangy and herbaceous Levantine staples without sacrificing the savory backbone we all love about the original. Anchovies and Worcestershire sauce? Non-negotiables, in my book. Especially the anchovies.

But instead of Parmesan in the dressing and tossed with the lettuce, there's creamy feta, and instead of croutons, golden za'atar breadcrumbs crisped in olive oil step in. 

Za'atar Belongs on Your Table—and in This Salad

In the Levant—particularly in Palestinian homes—za'atar isn't just a pantry staple. It's a daily ritual. Nearly every household keeps a small dish of it on the table alongside a bowl of olive oil, ready for breakfast, dinner, or a midday snack. A piece of warm pita takes a dip into the bold olive oil, then into the za'atar, where the herb mix clings to the surface. Nothing captures the spirit of the Levantine table more than that bite.

Za'atar refers both to a wild herb (similar in flavor to a mixture of oregano and thyme) and to the spice blend made from its dried leaves, typically mixed with toasted sesame seeds, sumac, and salt. Growing up in Jordan, I remember the warped, large baking sheets spotted with black burn marks, lined with fresh local za'atar leaves drying in the sun, tended to by my grandmother. Tangy, nutty, and deeply aromatic, it holds particular cultural weight in Levantine cooking.

But once za'atar landed on spice shelves outside the region, its role shifted. It started showing up on grilled chicken, in salad dressings, even on popcorn. I'll admit, I was apprehensive about these new uses at first, wanting to preserve the traditional, unadorned use I grew up with. But I've come to see it differently. Za'atar is too flavorful to be boxed in. It's also so versatile that it only makes sense to get creative with it. In this case, za'atar enhances a basic Caesar with its robust herbaceousness and the lemony pop of sumac. And while my grandmother probably wouldn't approve of the liberties I'm taking with it here, we can go ahead and just tack that onto the long, loving list of things she disapproves of when it comes to me.

The Breadcrumbs

Honestly, I've never liked croutons all that much—they go stale too quickly, and chomping on them feels like a chore. So I nixed them in most dishes in favor of toasted breadcrumbs a long time ago. In this salad, the za'atar breadcrumbs provide a consistent crunch throughout, without the agonizing brick-like bite. 

The za'atar breadcrumbs come together easily. Butter melts in a skillet until foamy, then in goes the grated garlic, followed by the plain breadcrumbs, which toast and brown, soaking up the flavors in the pan. Just as they turn golden, generous spoonfuls of za'atar are stirred in, along with fragrant lemon zest, and a pinch of salt. The crumbs are nutty from the sesame seeds, citrusy from the zest, and garlicky enough to make you want to scatter them over every salad and roasted vegetable in sight.

The Creamy Feta-Za'atar Dressing

The dressing for this salad doesn't stray too far from Caesar roots—it just pulls them in a different direction. Anchovies and Worcestershire sauce keep the umami base intact. Feta, instead of Parmesan, brings creaminess with a briny edge that stands up beautifully to the assertive, nutty, and robust za'atar. A generous squeeze of lemon and a splash of vinegar add bracing acidity, mellowed by the rich labneh.

Labneh—pronounced labaneh in my Palestinian-Jordanian dialect—is probably my number one kitchen staple. There's always a tub in my fridge. My only complaint? I can't find the giant containers here in the US like the ones I'd buy in Jordan. The little tubs barely last me a couple of meals. Back home, labneh is part of the everyday breakfast spread: paired with za'atar, good, bitter olive oil, green olives, pita, and salted cucumbers and tomatoes. In this dressing, it takes the place of the egg yolk, lending the same creamy, emulsified body but with a tangier flavor.

The dressing is finished with a stream of fruity olive oil for added, assertive richness. But when blending olive oil into dressings like this, there's always a risk: Overprocessing can bring out a noticeable bitterness. That happens because olive oil is rich in polyphenols, which are antioxidant compounds that can break down and react when aggressively blended, especially at high speeds or for too long. But in this case, the brief blending time eliminates this potential added bitterness.

I like to use a strongly flavored olive oil for this dressing. The generous acidity from the feta, lemon juice, and vinegar balance out the natural bitterness in the olive oil, adding structure and depth that's mellowed out by the creamy labneh. This dressing is so snappy and full of character that if you're anything like me, you'll be eating it by the spoonful before it even touches the lettuce.

The Final Toss

The beauty of this salad is in its contrasts: crisp romaine, creamy dressing, and briny pops of anchovy, feta, and lemon, all topped with rich, toasty, crunchy za'atar breadcrumbs. It delivers depth and brightness in equal measure. I unapologetically prefer a very well-dressed Caesar salad; the romaine lettuce is crisp enough to handle it, and I want to taste the dressing in every bite. If you happen to be more reserved than I am, feel free to use less dressing and save the rest for another time. (This dressing also works well as a topping for roasted vegetables.) After dressing the lettuce leaves, mound them loosely in a large bowl, and finish with a flurry of grated feta and a generous handful of breadcrumbs. This is a louder, punchier, and more pronounced Caesar. Don't be surprised if it becomes your go-to well past summer.