BY ALEXIS E. BARTON
THE QUESTION might be asked in a dramatic stage whisper. Or it might be said loudly—because it’s a very serious matter, one that divides palates and has the ability to make or break your meal. “Who made the potato salad?” Depending on how it’s spoken, it can be a withering insult or a high compliment. If my mother was the cook, the answer is always met with a sigh of relief.
When potato salad is not on the table, it’s missed. It may be composed of humble ingredients, but there’s nothing simple about it. Get it wrong, and every skill you possess or decision you’ve made may come into question. When done right, it creates memories that remain long after the dishes have been washed and the leftovers are packed away.
Mama prepares hers from memory— meaning there’s no written recipe. But it always has precisely the same ingredients added to the bowl in the same order.
In our family, everyone has at least one signature dish, and when they’re all put together, they form a complete meal. How my mom was assigned potato salad is something of a mystery. “I don’t know why I got it,” she tells me. “I think my sister Meriel’s was always the version to have. But somehow someone tasted mine, and I just started doing it. I fixed it for a party one time, and everybody really liked it and asked where it came from.”
My mother, like many Southern mamas, is a saint. If she is guilty of any potato salad sin, it’s making too much. In her defense, she learned by preparing it for a large family—six brothers, six sisters, and her parents. It was also her working-mom hack to ensure we always had leftovers. “We cooked in large quantities, so I was used to that,” she says. “If someone showed up unexpectedly (and people often did), you wanted to have enough for them to join the meal. Nobody ever refused a plate or left hungry.”
I thought writing this story would be a sneaky way to finally learn my mother’s recipe. But while I sit at the kitchen table grading undergraduates’ papers one afternoon, she graciously begins without me. “I’ll just put the potatoes on to boil. That will save us time,” she says. That’s my mother: always thinking ahead, trying to make everyone’s life easier.
Before I know it, she’s swiftly moved on to mashing, scooping, mixing, and seasoning—with no laptop, tablet, or cookbook in sight to guide her. She’s just doing what she’s always done: selflessly stepping up to whip things into shape.
I don’t mind only being needed in my childhood roles of chief taste tester, dishwasher, and sous-chef. I dip a spoon into the bowl and savor the still-warm salad. It’s perfect—flavorful and fluffy, substantial without being heavy, moist but not runny.
All that’s left is the garnish. My mother never dumps food on a plate or serves from aluminum pans. “How you do one thing is how you do everything,” she taught me. So this dish is done with a flourish: She delicately slices a boiled egg, dusts it with paprika and parsley, and layers the slices on the surface.
Once, my brother sneaked a taste of a batch that had been set aside for Mama’s grandfather’s repast—enough for hundreds of guests. In his haste to grab a bite, it fell to the kitchen floor. Hours of work all went to waste. What happened next? “I think I went blank,” my mother demurs. But I remember: She pulled out a pot and began to prepare more.
You’ve just got to have some potato salad with a Sunday supper or a soul food dinner. A good barbecue has to have it too,” Mama insists. “Collard greens, macaroni and cheese, sliced tomatoes, stewed okra, cornbread, baked or candied sweet potatoes, and potato salad—to me, that’s a soul-satisfying meal that makes me feel...home.”
ACTIVE 30 MIN. - TOTAL 1 HOUR, 30 MIN.
SERVES 8
3 medium russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch chunks (about 4 cups)
9 large eggs
¾ cup sweet pickle relish (from 1 [16-oz.] jar, such as Mt. Olive)
½ cup mayonnaise
⅓ cup drained diced pimientos (from 1 [4-oz.] jar)
¼ cup yellow mustard (such as French’s)
1 ½ Tbsp. dried parsley flakes, plus more for garnish
1 Tbsp. white vinegar
½ tsp. kosher salt Paprika
1. Place potatoes and eggs in a large pot, and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over high; reduce heat to medium-high, and cook, uncovered, until eggs are hard-cooked, about 12 minutes. Immediately transfer eggs to a bowl of ice water; let cool. Continue cooking potatoes until fork-tender, about 3 minutes more.
2. Drain potatoes, and place in a large bowl. Add pickle relish to warm potatoes, and mash mixture using a potato masher, removing all lumps. Fold in mayonnaise, pimientos, mustard, parsley, vinegar, and kosher salt until combined.
3. Remove eggs from ice water. Peel eggs; set aside 1 egg for garnish, if desired. Coarsely chop remaining 8 eggs, and gently fold into potato mixture. Cover and refrigerate until chilled, about 1 hour.
4. Transfer mixture to a serving bowl. Thinly slice remaining egg; garnish potato salad with paprika, additional parsley flakes, and sliced egg, if desired.
THIS PAGE: COURTESY ALEXIS E. BARTON; OPPOSITE PAGE: GREG DUPREE; FOOD STYLING: JULIAN HENSARLING; PROP STYLING: CHRISTINE KEELY