Seth recently said, "It's not summer until you make potato salad." It's true. It's one of those dishes that you could make any time of year, but fixing it in December would be like wearing a Hawaiian shirt to a Christmas Party in Detroit. Neither would fit in with reindeer sweaters.
So in the name of celebrating summer, you must go make this potato salad. I like all kinds of potato salad (come on, mayo, potatoes, salt, what's not to like?), but this is the one I always come back to. It's simple yet divine. Perfect for picnics but not so unassuming it couldn't make an appearance at a set table either.
I have written about it before, so I won't repeat the details. Here is where you'll find the backstory. Enjoy the summer. It won't be too long before those tacky sweaters will be in season.
Grandma Sarah's Potato Salad
5 pounds of Russet potatoes
1 bunch of celery, chopped
1 medium red onion, diced
2 eggs, hard boiled and peeled
3 cups of mayonnaise (no Miracle Whip, please)
1 4oz jar of diced pimentos (find them in grocery aisle near pickled asparagus and such)
S & P to taste
Peel, rinse and dice potatoes. Boil until tender in a large, liberally salted pot of water. Drain. Lay potatoes out on a cookie sheet to cool. Speed up the process by placing freezer bags filled with ice on top of them.
Chop one bunch of celery, dice the onion and egg. Combine celery, onion, egg, pimentos (juice and all), mayo, salt, pepper and potatoes in a large bowl. Gently mix to combine, making sure not to mash potatoes.
Season to taste. Chill, serve cold.
Note: Obviously, one only needs five pounds if you're feeding the entire church congregation. Scale down as necessary. Also, you can leave out ingredients you don't like, but do keep in mind that potato salad is not only about taste, but texture, too. The onions and celery add a delicious crunch.
Showing posts with label potatoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label potatoes. Show all posts
13 July 2009
08 October 2006
Welcome to my table
After Julia Child’s death in 2004, I was reading a story in a newspaper summarizing her contribution to the foodie trend well before the likes of Rachael Ray and Giada De Laurentiis when I ran across a quote from the original vivacious cook.
“The dinner hour is a sacred, happy time when everyone should be together and relaxed,” she had once said, eloquently articulating a sentiment I’d long felt.
My own love of the dinner hour comes from my childhood. I can remember busting through the front door and seeing my mom hovering over hot, bubbling grease with flour-dusted fingers and watching chicken thighs turn a brilliant gold. Along with the fried chicken always came mashed potatoes. The real kind, made from a pile of dirty spuds, peeled and boiled and whipped together with butter and milk. And, without fail, she'd take some of the grease and make a cream gravy speckled with black pepper.
Even as a kid, it registered that this was a special meal, but not because of expensive cuts of meat. She spent no extra cash on pre-cut chickens; she bought the whole bird and cut it up herself. The meal was special because it was a labor of love. It took time. It made a mess. But it was impossible to not have a wonderful feeling sitting around that dinner table.
Food is powerful.
It feeds our bodies and spirits, serving as a cultural touchstone.
And while we may still be able to connect and be sustained by our contemporary food culture, it surely lacks an essential element of that sacred, happy time about which Child spoke.
My goal is to help people make those connections once again. To buy fresh food, trusting their guts not their grocery lists. To learn a few basic kitchen skills that open the door to creativity.
And, most importantly, to cherish the dinner hour.
***
Watch this site for weekly recipes. I'll post a quick how-to on a meal I've made recently.
Sometimes I'll also post some of my favorite family recipes. And I may also sneak in some tips, fun stories and happenings from my kitchen.
I hope you find this useful, heartwarming and fun.
Above all, enjoy.
- Amy
“The dinner hour is a sacred, happy time when everyone should be together and relaxed,” she had once said, eloquently articulating a sentiment I’d long felt.
My own love of the dinner hour comes from my childhood. I can remember busting through the front door and seeing my mom hovering over hot, bubbling grease with flour-dusted fingers and watching chicken thighs turn a brilliant gold. Along with the fried chicken always came mashed potatoes. The real kind, made from a pile of dirty spuds, peeled and boiled and whipped together with butter and milk. And, without fail, she'd take some of the grease and make a cream gravy speckled with black pepper.
Even as a kid, it registered that this was a special meal, but not because of expensive cuts of meat. She spent no extra cash on pre-cut chickens; she bought the whole bird and cut it up herself. The meal was special because it was a labor of love. It took time. It made a mess. But it was impossible to not have a wonderful feeling sitting around that dinner table.
Food is powerful.
It feeds our bodies and spirits, serving as a cultural touchstone.
And while we may still be able to connect and be sustained by our contemporary food culture, it surely lacks an essential element of that sacred, happy time about which Child spoke.
My goal is to help people make those connections once again. To buy fresh food, trusting their guts not their grocery lists. To learn a few basic kitchen skills that open the door to creativity.
And, most importantly, to cherish the dinner hour.
***
Watch this site for weekly recipes. I'll post a quick how-to on a meal I've made recently.
Sometimes I'll also post some of my favorite family recipes. And I may also sneak in some tips, fun stories and happenings from my kitchen.
I hope you find this useful, heartwarming and fun.
Above all, enjoy.
- Amy
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