The Absent Uncle: The meaning of potato salad

Please indulge me, just like the subject of this column, the words for a column take a bit of time to season, to let those flavors intertwine for the afternoon or evening. I started this one on July 4, just after my latest attempt at the perfect potato salad. 

My mother made the best potato salad in the world. Hands down, no debate. She involved me in the process quite a few times, but when you are brought up and used to tasting perfection, you just don’t appreciate what you are a part of what you have time and time again.   

So, when I moved on into own life and volunteered to make potato salad for get togethers I just assumed the perfection I was used to would be automatic. Boil up some potatoes and eggs; sliced and dice; add some …

And there it is. Add some.

While there I was peeling the skin off the boiled potatoes, taking care of dicing up the hard-boiled eggs, she was over on the other side of the kitchen putting together that creamy, mustardy, pickle and pickle juice-added, with salt and pepper sauce with just the right amount of onion – all in the right proportions – and when mixed together, it was the definition of potato salad after a few hours of seasoning in the refrigerator. 

I knew what was in there; I saw it time after time.

And now for years, I am inspired to do it, and it just never seems to measure up.

Could be I don’t use Miracle Whip (we are a mayonnaise family – Hellmann’s); could be we don’t use yellow mustard (we like the kind with seeds); could be we don’t make our own dill pickles (never have, probably never will). And onions? My wife prefers no onions, so I have to sneak them in – limited and chopped very fine. 

Truth be told – this year was the first time I put a potato salad together in year or so. It felt good and I am looking forward to pulling it out of the refrigerator this evening and tasting the flavors. Sherrill is already questioning the amount of onion I used.

The meaning of potato salad? 

It means where you come from, your memories, and just how much you value your roots. And is it close to perfection?