13 Newman’s Own Salad Dressings, Ranked From Worst To Best

To call Paul Newman an interesting man would be an understatement. From Oscar-winning actor to film director to race car driver, he gave the debonair Dos Equis spokesman a run for his money. But he is more than just a household name; he’s a household presence. In fact, if you look in your fridge or pantry right now, you may just see his smiling face staring back at you.

Paul Newman is the man behind the Newman’s Own line of dressings, sauces, pizza, snacks, and more. The company started “on a bit of a lark” in 1982, when Newman and a friend bottled homemade salad dressing as holiday gifts. The idea blossomed into a brand that prides itself on quality ingredients and clean labeling, but more importantly, on its impact. True to its slogan “Let’s give it all away,” Newman’s Own donates 100% of its profits to charities that support children facing adversity.

I would venture to guess that salad dressing with a touch of philanthropy just tastes better. And today we’re putting that hypothesis to the test. We’re taking a closer look at 13 different bottles in the Newman’s lineup, from creamy ranches to vinaigrettes to a classic Caesar. We all love a salad dressing that adheres to industry standards. But I also looked for bottles with a great consistency, taste, versatility, and which also pushed the boundaries of what’s expected of them.

A salad dressing line isn’t worth a lick unless it features a creamy ranch. At least, that’s what we Midwesterners think. It’s a staple, not to mention one of the most versatile dressing options out there. I’ve tried many ranches in my day, and my official verdict is that the Newman’s Own version lands somewhere in the middle of the tastiness scale. The bottle says the recipe is actually “new and improved.” For me, that begs the question, “Did the old version receive complaints?” I fear it may have, and unfortunately, the fresh take could still use some work.

The bottle lands somewhere between Hidden Valley and a soupy restaurant ranch in terms of thickness. Its flavor leans more oily and mayonnaise-like than creamy and herby. It certainly differs from your classic store-bought ranch, despite its buttermilk, egg yolk, and light lemon juice base, and it’s not one I would particularly care to pick up again. So, despite its decent consistency and inherent functionality, its taste didn’t do enough to save it from the bottom of the Newman’s Own barrel. 

This flavor combination immediately conjured up visions of a vibrant Panera Bread salad. The chain doesn’t currently have a raspberry vinaigrette on its books, but it sounds like something it would spotlight as a summer signature, doesn’t it? I was expecting this same kind of fresh and fruity appeal from the taste of Newman’s dressing. It doesn’t quite deliver, though.

That first tongue dip was laced with the same level of artificiality as a raspberry candy. It stuck with me for a while and had me running to the ingredient list to ensure real raspberries were used in the recipe. Yes, they are. They’re even accompanied by other fruit friends like orange juice concentrate, elderberry juice, and grape skin extract. Luckily, I stuck with the vinegar and oil-based dressing, and it improved with each bite.

The berry flavor settles, becoming less fake and more friendly. Real raspberry seeds even pop up here and there. Although the presence of walnuts is faint at best, you can also detect subtle whiffs of nuttiness that add to the flavor depth. These elements send the dressing far above the middling ranch. It’s that initial synthetic quality and lack of versatility, though, that prevent it from making it further in the rankings. It’s a niche seasonal pick at best.

Balsamic vinaigrettes often use a three-to-one ratio of oil to vinegar. Judging by the look and apparent separation happening in this bottle, I’d say Newman’s holds true to this time-honored approach. Canola oil is combined with less than 2% of extra virgin olive oil on one side. On the other side, balsamic vinegar (the beloved dark Italian vinegar made from wine vinegar and concentrated grape must) combines with standard distilled vinegar. The smorgasbord of flavor enhancers includes garlic, sugar, black pepper, onion puree, red bell pepper, oregano, basil, parsley, marjoram, and dried green onion.

The result is a light, understated balsamic. The thin, oily texture is spot-on, coupled with the rich astringency from the vinegar. The taste of red bell pepper stands out, as well as specks of black pepper, and it edges out the brand’s ranch and raspberry vinaigrette thanks to its broader kitchen potential and its attempt at a more refined spin on the recipe. Overall, though, it’s lacking the same kind of liveliness as other balsamic vinaigrette brands. It scales down the sweetness and saltiness, and even with all those added herbs and spices, none seemed to cling to my crunchy leaves of iceberg. This lack of pop and dimension renders it boring, for lack of a better word.

The light balsamic vinaigrette is the only certified light dressing in Newman’s Own repertoire. It’s advertised as containing 59% fewer calories and 63% less fat compared to regular balsamic dressing (very specific numbers indeed). Upon further inspection, the only real difference I can see between this take and its predecessor is that it drops sugar from the recipe. It must also skew its proportions of oil, vinegar, and water by pulling back on overall oil volume (just an educated hunch). However, these modifications come at no detriment at all to the dressing’s taste. The regular and light balsamic vinaigrettes are essentially indistinguishable in terms of flavor. In the plastic bottle, the light version doesn’t settle nearly as much as the regular — yet another hint at its reduced-oil makeup. On the palate, though, it has the same effect. It’s tangy with peppery undertones yet less robust than the vinaigrettes I’m used to.

I don’t know about you, but if I can get the same taste while cutting down on fat and calories, you better believe that’s the product I’m reaching for. I’m going with the Newman’s Own Light Balsamic Vinaigrette all the way.

Not to worry. Newman’s follows a pretty traditional Caesar dressing recipe. That means egg yolks, olive oil, parmesan cheese, mustard, garlic, lemon juice, and yes, anchovies all join the party.

“Creamy” may have been a stretch adjective for this dressing. The emulsion isn’t quite as thick as other Caesars, though it does have smoothness on its side. Like the earlier ranch, it has undertones of mayonnaise, but otherwise sticks to an authentic taste. It’s tangy and savory, with clear nuances of garlic, lemon, and sharp mustard. I could even pick up on that distinct parmesan nuttiness lingering throughout — a major plus since that’s the one ingredient that likes to play hide and seek in Caesar dressings.

My largest issue with the salad topper is that it takes its brine to the next level. It’s inundated with saltiness to the point that I fear it would overtake a bed of greens and croutons rather than elevate it — the main reason it lingers towards the back of the rankings with a couple of banal balsamics and other lesser picks.

It’s not that I don’t like this classic blend. I just think it fares better as a dressing starter rather than a final product. The bottle doesn’t lie about its contents. The olives dancing about the label even give hints as to exactly what kind of oil is involved. Olive oil (not specified as extra virgin olive oil) teams up with canola oil to form the base. Meanwhile, red wine vinegar holds up the vinegar part of the deal, supported by a dash of distilled vinegar and lemon juice concentrate. Next comes a bit of a surprise: spicy brown mustard and a combination of onion puree, garlic, black pepper, and celery seed for flavor. It’s about as fresh as a tablespoon of oil can get, and then you get a tongue prick of that easily perceptible mustard zest.

It’s simple and respectable, making it a middle-of-the-pack choice. It just needs something additional to make it memorable. Perhaps an extra dose of garlic. Maybe a sweetener to balance the vinegar’s acidity. Anything to prevent it from being almost completely drowned out by the greens and veggies in your salad bowl.

Like ranch or Caesar, Italian is another workhorse of the salad dressing industry. Newman’s Own throws its own family recipe in the ring, and I can see how it could become a classic go-to at the dinner table. Don’t forget to shake the bottle before squeezing it out. Prior to sloshing everything together, the herbs, seasonings, and other add-ins appear like sand and sediment gathering at the bottom of an oil and vinegar ocean. Even once it’s properly combined, this is not an extra-sharp and zesty Italian. It leans oily and garlic, Romano cheese, pepper, and oregano are the flavors that stand out the most. 

It almost reminds me of the bread dipping oil that magically appears at your table at a high-end Italian restaurant. Then, it also surprises you with an unexpected ingredient: Worcestershire sauce. This extra element adds a bit of pizzazz to the already diverse mix and gives the dressing a deeper, more umami-filled taste. I was not mad about the switch, not one bit. That little twist helps it stand apart from the basic oil-and-vinegar blend and creamy misses, all while keeping a familiar balance of adaptable Italian flavors. 

To say this bottle separates is an understatement. The good news, though, is that when you shake together the yellow liquid and murky seasonings, this dressing is one worthy of a pantry spot — much more so than any of the previous vinaigrettes. The oil (both canola and extra virgin olive) and white balsamic vinegar give it a crisp and delicate start. Then, the lemon juice — plus bits of peel — comes in to give it a pronounced citrusy zip. Bits of basil, as well as oregano and thyme, can be seen clear as day floating around the translucent bottle. However, the fresh and aromatic taste of these herbs doesn’t fully come through in the flavor — my sole complaint about this double feature vinaigrette and part of the reason it doesn’t crack my top five.

Despite the bashful basil, I can still think of plenty of use cases for this bright dressing. It would perk up any kind of salad, whether it be lettuce or pasta-based. I could envision it being used as a marinade for chicken or drizzled over fish. You could even add in fresh basil to coax out more of those herbal notes.

This Southwest ranch impressed me. And if you knew my rocky history with the ranch spinoff, you’d know how bold a statement that is. The dressing is a major improvement compared to the brand’s classic ranch and gives it an edge against many other Newman’s Own bottles, thanks to its well-executed individuality. It starts out in a similar way to the classic ranch with canola oil, buttermilk, egg yolk, and distilled vinegar. It then gets its Tex-Mex-inspired flair from a combo of lime juice, chipotle pepper, smoked paprika, and cilantro.

Its strong flavors come alive even in the aroma. The texture is thicker and creamier than Newman’s original ranch, and the palate has it beat by a mile. It has an immediate smoky pepper taste that contains a respectable kick. The spice builds in the back of your throat, in a good way. The addition of cilantro was also a smart move, in my opinion. Not only does it add some pops of color to the orange sauce, it also brings in a fresh and vibrant flavor (at least, for those who don’t liken the taste of the herb to soap). 

Some honey mustards lean too sweet. Some honey mustards lean too pungent. Newman’s Own seems to get it just right — a Goldilocks of this mustard category and one of the brand’s best recipes. It sure doesn’t look like your average honey mustard, though. It’s thick, brown, and speckled, closer to a Dijon. This look undoubtedly comes from the use of Creole mustard — a bold and grainy-texture take that hails from New Orleans. However, it gets balanced out by a dose of classic mustard and plenty of honey to form a condiment that is both approachable and wonderfully zesty.

Naturally, I wanted to draw a comparison between this bottle and a fast-food honey mustard. I just don’t think anything matches it apples to apples. Thanks to its addition of buttermilk, it’s thicker than an option like McDonald’s. It’s bolder than the sauce from Wendy’s or Burger King. And perhaps not quite as stellar as the honey mustard from Chick-fil-A (my personal favorite). What I do know, though, is that it still makes for the perfect pairing with chicken nuggets.

It may be a marinade masquerading as a salad dressing, but this sesame ginger is a cupboard essential. We’ve all met a sesame ginger sauce that was no better than a glorified teriyaki. This is exactly what I was anticipating. Newman’s, however, rises above this same-old, same-old imitation. The brand takes the two-part recipe to heart, delivering a product that clearly adheres to both its sesame and ginger protocols.

At its core, the dressing is an infusion of soy sauce and sesame oil. What makes it pop are its flashes of earthy ginger and its lingering sweet finish. With a viscosity that easily flows, yet also adheres well to foods, it’s a dressing unlike any other on the Newman’s lineup, and one that could easily slide into a wide variety of roles. A block of tofu would soak it up quite nicely. Better yet, use it to glaze a batch of meatballs or as a dip for your dumplings. It’s the kind of sauce that begs for innovation and culinary improvisation. Even still, there were two recipes that created even more balance and intrigue all on their own.

The White Balsamic Vinaigrette is the last balsamic on the list. I swear. And this is the bottle to buy if you have a hankering for a light yet superior vinaigrette. Ignore the fact that it looks as though it was scooped from a sink full of dirty dishwasher. Focus instead on the crisp, bursting flavors that leave you puckering in the best possible way.

Compared to Newman’s Own standard balsamic vinaigrette, this one drops the black pepper, red bell pepper, oregano, and parsley. It opts for white balsamic vinegar and dials up both the garlic and basil. With a less syrupy demeanor, I can just envision it on a simple arugula salad, lightly coating a handful of juicy cherry tomatoes and crunchy pine nuts. The dressing balances itself between sweet and sour. It awakens your senses with an extra dose of zing and tartness, but keeps you coming back for more thanks to its honey-like smoothness. There’s no mistaking its cafe-level quality — a timeless dressing yet refreshing every time and a clear second place behind something with just a bit more oomph.

You can’t go wrong with cheese and garlic, and within this recipe, the two ingredients join together to create nothing short of dressing magic. It begins with a familiar build of canola oil and vinegar. Then, it blasts the blend with nutty parmesan and a mountain of roasted garlic. The word “stingy” is not in this dressing’s vocabulary. It gives the people what they want by going heavy on the ingredients that matter most. Some view it as a risk. I view it as following through on your promises.

You may have also noticed a darker tinge to this bottle. The roasted garlic and black pepper are likely contributors to this, though I would guess that Worcestershire sauce is the guiltiest culprit. The unlikely addition seeps into the oil and vinegar mixture, deepening the shade but also elevating the dressing with extra hints of umami and saltiness.

The frequent and flavorful bits of garlic sell this recipe for me even more. Dare I say I would drink it if that were appropriate, and if I could avoid the onslaught of bad breath that would no doubt follow me for the foreseeable future. It’s the very best of Newman’s Own.

​​I tasted each dressing over the course of an afternoon on a bed of fresh spring mix and by the spoonful (no shame here). In doing so, I looked first for an adherence to tradition. When it comes to dressings, you can’t go wrong with familiar formulas. It’s nice when dressings line up with your expectations of what they ought to be. When they don’t, you immediately turn your nose up. This was the case with the Newman’s Own ranch or the balsamic vinaigrette. They just didn’t deliver on that classic taste, venturing too far from the norm or lacking a punch.

From there, I ranked on a number of factors, from its consistency and how well it adhered to my lettuce to its perceived versatility and overall flavor. I wanted something bold enough to stand up to any food you throw at it and also have a one-of-a-kind touch. It’s much more intriguing when a dressing satisfies the basics, then elevates them further. These are the kinds of recipes I was drawn to as tasted and tested. Spicing up a Southwest ranch with chipotle peppers and cilantro? Yes please. Enlivening a honey mustard with Creole mustard? I’m here for it. Taking an oil and vinegar base and giving it gusto with a punch of cheese and garlic? That’s the makings of a winning recipe.