By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist
Last month, my family had an early and abbreviated gathering in Montana. For many years, I planned all the menus, shopped and was responsible for most of the meals. Back then, my children were busy with their children, and their summer holiday prep was focused on packing totes filled with toddler gear. Times change — we’re all getting older. Some of those toddlers are now college-bound; and, this year, their parents insisted on limiting my culinary responsibilities. Each family would spend a day in the familiar old log kitchen.
I stood over the low kitchen counter and surveyed the massive bowl containing more than 10 pounds of my mother’s potato salad — our family’s most requested, most fought-over and most beloved dish. I knew exactly who’d be nearly first in our hearty buffet line. Politeness dictated that elderly aunts went first, and 14-year-old Will was right behind them. Before long, he was back in line, plate in hand, ready for another serving. It was only after he returned for thirds that his mother, Ryanne, quietly reminded him, “Will, you cannot have thirds until all of the others have firsts.”
As soon as Will returned home, he begged his mother to whip up a batch of our traditional potato salad. Wisely, Ryanne is raising a family of cooks, and suggested that Will could look up the recipe in the Sandpoint Reader recipe archives and make it himself. He never got around to it, but they were headed to Sandpoint the following weekend and a potato salad tutorial topped his list.
I reminded Will that it’s not my recipe. It was my mother’s. I’m not sure; maybe it was her mother, Irma’s, before her. I’ve made it hundreds of times — sometimes for two people, and in the height of my catering career, sometimes for 200 — and, every time, I feel my mother standing beside me. This is more than a family recipe. It’s our shared heritage. A lineage of love, and it was an honor to hand the reins to Will.
We started with the basics. The potatoes are boiled in their skins and should be cooked tender but not mushy. I showed Will how a sharp knife easily slides through the potato when done. The eggs are hard-boiled then peeled when they’re just cool enough to handle. While we waited, we mixed and tasted the wet ingredients as I explained that both potatoes and eggs must be warm when mixed with the dressing. That’s the real secret. Warm ingredients absorb more flavor.
As we worked, I told him about his great-grandmother, how she used to prepare this salad for church potlucks, summer picnics and family dinners. As a child, perched high on a wooden stool, I’d sit alongside her and watch her use her thumb to slide the jackets off the potatoes. I stayed put until she gave me a spoonful of the warm and creamy salad. It was never enough, and I always begged for just one more spoonful.
Will listened carefully. Not just to the recipe, but to the story. Because to us, food is never just food. We are a family of cooks and caregivers. Ours is a family bound by recipes. We may not always agree on parenting styles, but we all agree that Grandma Fern’s potato salad is a cherished tradition. With mayonnaise on his hands and purpose in his heart, we also decided that Will nailed the recipe.
He already plans to teach his children to make it. How do I know? After his family returned to Moscow, Will was quick to whip up yet another batch and informed his mom that he’ll teach his children to make it, thus becoming the fifth generation to carry the recipe forward. I like to imagine him, an adult in his kitchen, watching his child mashing up the spuds under Ryanne’s watchful eye. They’ll mix and taste until someone proclaims, “It tastes just like Mimi’s.”
We have other recipes and foods that bring us together, too, both in preparation and sharing, like Blarney Stones — sweet little confections rolled in ground peanuts. Our Thanksgiving table will include Irish potato dressing, colcannon and hand-shaken butter. And that’s how family recipes survive — not in books or recipe cards, but in kitchens, over boiling pots, with stories shared while eggs are peeled and family secrets revealed over sturdy old bowls.
They’ll be back! Both daughters and their families are coming for a Festival at Sandpoint night. Casey’s oldest, 7-year-old Sam, has declared that Will’s potato salad tastes better than Mimi’s, so it may be time to switch up our summer salad offerings. I will try to win back Sam’s culinary (and vegetarian) affections with lemony garbanzo bean salad. It may lack provenance, but it does not lack flavor.
Lemony garbanzo bean salad with feta
Nice summer side salad or light lunch entrée served with warm pita, hummus and chilled white wine. Serves 4-6.
INGREDIENTS:
Salad:
• 2 cans (15 oz each) garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drained and rinsed
• 1 cup red, orange and green diced peppers
•1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
•1 cucumber, seeded and diced (or one small cocktail cuke, sliced)
• ½ red onion, small dice
• ½ cup Kalamata olives, pitted
• ⅓ cup crumbled feta cheese
• ¼ cup fresh parsley, minced
• ¼ cup fresh mint, finely chopped
Dressing:
• ¼ cup good quality olive oil
• Zest of 1 lemon
• Juice of 2 lemons
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1 clove fresh minced garlic
• ¼ teaspoon ground cumin
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
DIRECTIONS:
Salad:
Drain and rinse the garbanzo beans thoroughly. Place them in a large mixing bowl.
Dice the cucumber, halve the cherry tomatoes, and chop peppers and red onion. Add to the bowl with the garbanzo beans.
Dressing:
In a small bowl or jar, whisk together the lemon zest and juice, olive oil, Dijon mustard, garlic and cumin. Season the dressing with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.
Pour the dressing over the garbanzo bean mixture and toss gently to evenly coat everything. Add the crumbled feta, fresh parsley and mint. Give the salad a gentle toss.
For best flavor, let the salad sit in the fridge for at least a couple hours so flavors can meld. Will keep covered in fridge for 3-4 days.
