8 French Dressing Brands Ranked Worst To Best

There is no shortage of salad dressing options at the grocery store, from fan-favorite buttermilk ranch and perfectly garlicky Caesar to more unconventional options, such as the best Thousand Island. The reason we're gathered here today? French dressing. When I was growing up, I went through a phase where the only dressing I would eat on salad was French (yes, while other kids my age were going through their One Direction phases, and I was going through a salad dressing phase — but I digress). I don't remember it being as universally available at restaurants as Caesar, ranch, and balsamic were, but I do remember eating copiously dressed bowls of lettuce with the condiment at home and not complaining too much about the flavor. There was something about the way the umami and sweet tomato intertwined with the slightly smoky and vinegary undercurrents that really gave it some pop and made it one of my favorite dressings.

However, my interest in this dressing never entirely waned, and I wanted to see, as an adult, which brand made the best French dressing. I was shocked to see how many different brands of French dressing were available at my local grocery stores. Based on my past experiences trying salad dressings, I imagined there would be a ton of diversity and differences in quality between the different bottles. As such, I decided to give each of these brand's products a taste, evaluating the flavor balance, texture, and overall enjoyability before ranking them from worst to best.

I avoided all of the pressure to bully Organicville solely for its name — seriously, you could have named your organic product anything else, but you chose ... that? Luckily, I didn't have to just bully it for its name, considering the stuff inside the bottle was bad enough to speak for itself.

Despite shaking this bottle to ensure that the contents were well distributed and mixed before sampling, this dressing still separated almost instantly. And I do think that the reason for this is because it's secretly a vinaigrette that's trying ridiculously hard to be a creamy dressing. It poured like a thin smoothie from the bottle, which suggested that its flavor was going to be super vinegary and sharp — and that was exactly the flavor I got from it.

It was weirdly citrusy and weirdly savory — almost anchovy-like — meaning that the tomatoey flavor I had long associated with French dressing didn't register on my palate. If I had poured it over lettuce, it would have easily washed right to the bottom of the bowl rather than cling to the pieces of lettuce and veggies. The aftertaste from this dressing was also pretty rank and fishy, which meant that after one taste, I was ready to toss it the bottle into the trash. It's organic, sure, but at what cost? 

I am a believer in calling a spade a spade, which is why I was curious as to why there was a barbecue sauce hidden among the French dressings at my local Walmart. Western is supposedly marketed as a California-style French dressing, meaning that sweeter and more acidic notes were in store for me. However, I'm convinced Western took this dressing to a whole new level: This was like a hickory barbecue sauce, just without those tasty, woody notes that make a store-bought barbecue sauce taste so good. 

The color of this sauce resembles a thick, dark, and smoky barbecue sauce, too. While the others that I tried took on pleasant red and orange tones, this one looked like it had been made with brown sugar. While I didn't see this ingredient on the label, I did spy what could be to blame for its goopy texture: high-fructose corn syrup. Now, I didn't rank this dressing low because of this ingredient specifically but rather because of what the high-fructose corn syrup did to the flavor and the texture. All I could taste in this dressing was the syrup. It was sweet and only sweet, with no defining acidity or tomato flavor. It's acidic and tomatoey in a way that a barbecue sauce is; the flavors only play supporting roles to the star (meaning the sweetness) — and they don't do a very good job of it.

I don't know about you, but eating lettuce with a topping of sticky and thick high-fructose corn syrup isn't my idea of a fun time. While it was still more pleasant than Organicville, it was not something I would buy again — at least as a dressing; it wouldn't make a half-bad barbecue sauce if you added liquid smoke.

Wish-Bone has two dressings that I tried for this ranking: a sweet French and a creamy French. For the sake of comparison, I tried these two products, then ranked Wish-Bone based on my opinion of both dressings overall.

First, the sweet French. I will give it some credit for being less like a barbecue sauce than Western's California-style-ish-but-not-really dressing; it had less of a pointed sweetness and more tangy and zesty undertones, which helped contrast the sweetness. I say "contrast" rather than "balance" quite intentionally, as it seemed like the sweetness and the tanginess were clashing more than they were working together. The tomato flavor, or any hope of a balancing spice, was just collateral damage in the war between these two profiles. And I don't entirely know why these flavors, which normally work pretty well, were so harsh and biting here, but I do know that I coughed a little when I got a hit of the sweet French's vinegar flavor.

The creamy dressing, on the other hand, was just okay. It was thick enough to stick to lettuce or veggies, and it had a slightly eggy profile that wasn't too overwhelming or worthy of note. The vinegar flavor was just as prevalent in Wish-Bone's creamy French as it was in the sweet version, though, and I felt like it was too out of balance to rank any higher on my list. I wouldn't go out of my way to put either of these dressings on my salad, and I don't think you should, either.

Stop & Shop's products, like other store brands, are either a hit or a miss. This French dressing is very much in the latter camp. When I tasted it, the primary word that came to my mind was "discombobulated." Was it a vinaigrette that was just trying on a creamy dressing's clothes? Why was the dressing so tart? Was it supposed to be tomatoey or something else entirely? I was left with more questions than I had answers — and I shouldn't have had to think that hard about a salad dressing.

The eggy flavor was really put on the back burner, which was not an inherently bad thing. The worst part about this dressing was that the oddly salty and somewhat fishy flavors eclipsed the tart and bright tomatoes and vinegar. Normally, savory and salty flavors would work well with the tartness, so I'm wondering why all of the elements in this dressing felt so out of place.

Like many of the other French dressings, I was also missing any sort of paprika, spice, or other seasonings, which may have added more depth (though they likely would have confused the flavor profile even more, so maybe it's not a bad thing that they were absent). Although the dressing had saltiness and was very puckery, I can't say that either of those notes was particularly enjoyable, nor would they be approachable to someone just dabbling in French dressing for the first time. If this dressing got its act together, it could have potential. But as of now, it's only worthy of a middling spot.

Ken's Steak House was the other double-hitter in this ranking, offering both country French and creamy French dressings. The brand's country French looked more like a thick Buffalo sauce than a salad dressing. The bottle notes that it's made with orange blossom honey, but I can't say that the honey came through as anything uniquely floral or anything other than generally sweet. I did like that the vinegar flavor was more restrained here than it was in the Wish-Bone sweet French dressing, and I thought that the acidity of Ken's Steak House's dressing jived more with its sweetness. However, the sweetness was a little too cloying; it wouldn't be good for topping vegetables with. Could it be used as a dipping sauce for french fries or chicken nuggets? Probably, but I was shopping for a dressing, not a dipping sauce.

The creamy French was marginally better than Wish-Bone's, and it's what I would expect to be served with my salad at a C-list steakhouse. It has subtle notes of egg and something umami — borderline fishy, though luckily not as offensive as Stop & Shop's dressing. However, as I was eating Ken's dressing, I couldn't help but notice that it tasted more like Thousand Island dressing than it did French — based on how creamy and umami it was. I did appreciate its restrained sweetness as well.

In terms of reliable options, Ken's Steak House outpaces competitors like Wish-Bone. But I can't say that it was as well-balanced and even-keeled as the French dressings I ranked above it, earning this brand a spot in the middle of the pack.

Kraft was the first brand that I tried for this review. I was familiar with its other products, including chipotle aioli, which I use on everything from breakfast sandwiches to fries. And I kind of got chipotle aioli vibes from its creamy French dressing. When I tasted it, the first thing I thought was "mayo" — not "tomato," not "spice," not "paprika." Mayo. I suspect that's because of how eggy this dressing was, which allowed it to come off as thick and almost congealed when I plopped it into the tasting cup.

I could see that there were little specks of red floating around the semi-gelatinous dressing, but I wasn't able to taste the bright and fresh paprika notes that I was suspecting and hoping for. There was no sort of back-of-the-mouth heat, nor was there any peppery bite to help balance the richness and egginess of the dressing. It's very heavy, yet a very classic form of French dressing nonetheless. But if someone had served it to me at a restaurant and told me it was French dressing, I would have gone along with it. In that regard, it's passable, but it's nothing extraordinary. 

This dressing wouldn't offer even the most boring of Romaines anything new, which is what pushed it back in my ranking. I wouldn't go out of my way to buy it, and I would honestly suspect more boldness from a dressing and condiment giant like Kraft. 

Great Value's products and I don't always have the best of relationships. Some of them are great, sure, but there are other products that are frankly better left up to the big dogs (read: name brands). While I do think that Great Value did an excellent job of producing a flavorful, punchy French dressing that was leaps and bounds above some of the more expensive name brands on this list, I can't say that I would still go out of my way to buy it. 

When I poured this dressing out of the container, the first thought that came to mind was that it had the texture of a creamy maple butter. It was thinner than Kraft and didn't offer the same richness. However, this isn't inherently bad, as its creaminess didn't distract from the other flavors. There wasn't much smokiness or savoriness to this dressing, though there was a much better balance of sweetness and savoriness from the tomato. Unlike many of the other dressings on this list, Great Value's creamy French tried to highlight the flavor nuances of the tomato in its dressing, which is what I think makes it a rather compelling suggestion. This pick would be excellent on a salad, but it still didn't have the balanced bite that my top pick did, which is why I wouldn't add it to my cart again. However, if you have a penchant for French dressing, you may want to try it for yourself. 

Tuscan Garden, Aldi's in-house salad dressing brand, makes a great, affordable French dressing that is worth buying. However, you need to first know that it only sells this California-style French dressing — which I would say really borders on the line of not really being a French dressing. It's a much more tomato-forward, sweet, and tangy version of the French you may know and love. Overall, this sauce definitely was a true California-style dressing — it was heavier on the sweet notes and the tanginess, but that sweetness never stole the show. The texture of the dressing is a bit sticky and syrupy — likely due to the added sugar — however, the sugar wasn't at all distracting or tacky. This dressing would still easily adhere to lettuce or veggies and offer a complementary sweetness rather than an overwhelming one.

Ultimately, I ranked this dressing at the top of this list because the flavor was balanced, and I wasn't left with as many unanswered questions about its flavor as I was with other dressings. It's an acquired taste, though aren't all French dressings? I do think that it would strike a chord among salad enthusiasts because of its balance of boldness and restraint when it comes to flavor pairings. It's a just-complex-enough dressing that will add boldness to your regular ol' salad routine, earning it the No. 1 spot on my list.

For this ranking, I tasted each of these dressings at room temperature on the day I opened them. While most people probably don't guzzle dressing straight from the bottle, I wanted to try each brand without any sort of accompaniment to ensure that I was getting the fullest expression of its flavor. However, I did ultimately consider how each French dressing would pair with salad — its most common use — when deciding how to rank these options. 

The main thing I looked for when tasting these dressings was flavor balance. Both the sweeter, California-style dressing and the classic French have their own respective flavor notes, which is why I considered their overall flavor balance and complexity when tasting each one. If the sweetness was too overwhelming, the vinegar too strong, or the umami too distracting and out of whack, the dressing ranked lower on this list. The sweetness also had to be added tactfully, as a dressing that was too sweet isn't ideal for eating with vegetables. 

Texture wasn't as important of a consideration, but dressings that were too watery or too thick and would presumably make the salad unappealing ranked lower than those that would stick to the greens with ease. Lastly, I considered overall enjoyability. In other words, would I order that dressing with my salad off a menu, or would I consider buying it and keeping it in my fridge? Only my top pick earned that distinction.