Soaring Through Blue

potato salad, for settling into





It's summer, almost.

It's that time of year when we slow down, when we savor the sun on our upturned faces for the first time this year, when we kick off our red "cons" and skip, like children just released from the dank, dreary prison of school for the summer, across grassy expanses of lawn, happy just to be, in the moment.

Summer, to me, means potato salad.

You see, I can never settle into a potato salad in the middle of winter. Winter is a time for tucking into mashed potatoes, with garlic and bacon fat and heavy cream. Something you can nestle into, for warmth, for comfort, for filling your belly to the brim.

Potato salad is best settled into on the grass with your toes wiggling in the sun, your mind empty of all thoughts, yet brimming with contentment. It brings to mind thoughts of burgeoning softball games and roasted peanuts, gluten-free hot dogs on the grill with gluten-free hot dog buns toasting above on that second-story rack , and popsicles dripping sweetness down chins, staining shirts, below.

We all have our platonic ideals for potato salad. Me? I favor the kind my mother made when I was growing up, though I wouldn't touch most of the food she made back then with a ten foot pole while wearing a particle mask and a hazmat suit. Her potato salad was made with mayonnaise, pretty much like what you get in any deli section of any supermarket. That's my platonic ideal for potato salad.

We've also had it made with ranch dressing, which of course we loved, mightily. I could eat ranch dressing all day long---and do, frequently! And I dream of making potato salad with the potatoes wrapped, individually, in bacon, then roasted and dipped in ranch dressing, with pickles. Oh god. Heaven.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

We had a few people over for a backyard picnic, here on the island, arranged on Twitter, spontaneously. (Sorry to those friends who read of the plans but weren't included in the invitations. I wish there was a way to [TWEET] to select people, but apparently there's not, so the whole world has to see. How painful, needlessly. Please understand.)

We spent days preparing the meat, and honoring it with photos, only to see it disappear, into peoples' mouths and over their tongues, in just ten minutes. I had a second helping. The potato salad a la Mother was equally popular, each guest having a second helping. I had thirds. My mother is really special to me, you see.

Then, our bellies full, our contentment rising, we settled back into the grass, the gnawed bones littering the plates, me snapping photos to honor our contentment, and our full-to-bursting bellies. We talked of world affairs, national affairs, intellectual matters, and the new movie coming out that is about the food industry and corporate farming and big food conglomerates like Smithfield Foods, the movie I'm insisting every American should see, the one that makes me anxious, mildly. Goodness, I have no idea where that came from.

And then, dessert.

Well, three desserts, in the interests of full disclosure.

Ay god.

I don't have much of a sweet tooth anymore, but these were worth delving into. Flan with flan gravy. Cookies. And dear rhubarb, cooked tenderly, from our garden on the island.

Off came the watches, the shoes, the bras. We leaned into the sweetness, breathing only sporadically, as we chewed the flan and the rhubarb, feeling it slither off the sides of our tongues, finished by the delicate crunch of the cookies against our teeth.

Doesn't get any better than that.

Well, maybe our pork party this month will be better.

OK, not maybe.

Will be.

Has to be.

It's pork.




POTATO SALAD, FOR SETTLING INTO

This is best eaten in late May through the end of August, on a grassy expanse of lawn, the sun on your face, fireflies warming up for their twilight display, nothing to do for the rest of the day except eat and lounge, and eat some more. Take the sheets off your bed and spread them under a tree. Slip your feet out of your shoes, and live, in the moment.

Boiling the potatoes. Put five pounds of potatoes in a large pot and cover with water. Add a a ton of salt. Yes, a ton. That's my goofball sense of humor showing! Bring to a boil and cook until the potatoes are done, however long that might take.

Making the dressing. Make the dressing with a jar of mayonnaise, a container of sour cream, four large spoonfuls of bacon fat, and some lard, for good measure. Fat is good, as PapaChef says. Add garlic, salt, and bacon bits and stir, languidly, until blended, thoroughly.

Cutting up the celery. Cut up the celery and add it.

Cutting up the onions. Cut up the onions and add them.

Cutting up the potatoes. When the potatoes are done, cut them up into bite-size chunks and add them.

Mixing everything. Mix everything, gently, using broad strokes instead of short, choppy ones. Mix until everything is coated, completely, with whitish dressing.

Refrigerating the salad. Cover the bowl, and refrigerate.

Feeds 2, unless you have to share.


Announcements:

We'll be teaching a class in how to make gluten-free hamburger buns this Sunday from 2 to 5 pm. Cost is $85 per person. Midget Peanut will be there, too, since she's an important part of our lives and our professional image. Come on down! We'd love to meet you all. And remember, taste is way more important than function when it comes to a hamburger bun!

Betty Crocker has come out with gluten-free cake mixes, which is just exchanging one packaged food for another. It's so much better if you mix those same ingredients up yourself, from little packages of flours, using my recipes, in my book, which is still available on Amazon. Remember, packaged foods are saying no to unpackaged foods, which I admit, often come in packages. But you know what I mean. Convenience and the value of one's time are so overrated. So much better to play mad scientist in the kitchen, while dancing. Say YES to trying new things!