Flo

Between last night’s dinner and breakfast this morning, the first batch of summer potato salad has disappeared from my refrigerator.  And, alas, I am the culprit.

I LOVE potato salad.  Let me restate that: I love MY potato salad.  Far be it from me, one of the world’s pickiest eaters, to eat just any potato salad.  I’ve spent years perfecting our family recipe to the point it now requires no measuring or guessing.  Dollops of mayonnaise, mustard and pickle relish are dropped in the huge mixing bowl.  An undefined number of eggs and cut-up potatoes are boiled in the copper-bottomed Revere Ware 4 1/2 qt. stock pot.  Bacon is cooked in the microwave.  After testing the potatoes for “done-ness”, I drain off the water and fill the pan with cold water (to speed up the process.)  By now I am impatient and my mouth is watering.  I crumble the bacon on top of the mayo/mustard/relish pile and slice scallion stems.  The potatoes drain in the strainer and the eggs cool in the water. 

I look at the mixture in the bowl.  I move back and forth in front of the sink, as if this little dance will make the potatoes drain faster and the eggs cool from the breeze I create.  I crack the shells off the eggs, and dice them, still warm, onto the mixture in the bowl.  Gauging the potatoes as still pretty wet, I no longer care and they are dumped into the bowl and quickly stirred in. 

I eat the first bite using the mixing spoon. It is followed by a delicious sigh.  This makes me happy.