Creamy Pasta Salad with Ham & Peas

Christmas Day. The meal. The table. The everything.

I woke at four. Four in the morning on Christmas Day, because the pernil needed to go in the oven and six hours of roasting cannot be rushed and Carmen Delgado-Ortiz does not serve pernil that is anything less than perfect. Eduardo found me in the kitchen at 4:15 in my bathrobe and my slippers, basting the pork shoulder with its own juices, the oven light casting everything in gold. He did not say anything. He made me cafe. He sat at the kitchen table and drank his cafe and watched me cook. This is our Christmas morning. This has been our Christmas morning for twenty-eight years. Before the children wake up, before the chaos, before the table fills with twenty people — it is just me and Eduardo and the pernil and the silence, and the silence is not empty. The silence is full of twenty-eight years of mornings like this one.

Everyone came. Miguel Jr. and Jenny. Rosa. David, home from Brooklyn, looking thin because New York thins people out and I do not approve. Sofia, still in her pajamas until noon because she is sixteen and sixteen-year-olds do not recognize mornings. The table had eighteen people — family, Patricia from next door, two church friends who had nowhere to go because Christmas alone is not something I allow in my proximity.

The food was perfect. I am not being modest because modesty about Christmas food is a lie. The pernil: golden skin, meat falling off the bone, garlic in every bite. Arroz con gandules: the rice fluffy, the pigeon peas tender, the sofrito base doing what sofrito does — making everything taste like the island. Pasteles: Abuela Consuelo recipe, Mami technique, my hands. Tostones: crispy, salty, perfect. Ensalada de coditos: the macaroni salad that Eduardo loves and that I make with enough mayo to give a cardiologist chest pains. Tembleque: cool coconut pudding, smooth as silk. Flan: caramel on top, custard below, the dessert that ties the whole meal together like the last note of a song.

David and I cooked together for the first time in years. Side by side in the kitchen, him chopping, me seasoning, our rhythms matching the way they used to when he was fifteen and I was teaching him to make sofrito. He has new techniques now — restaurant techniques, professional tricks — but the foundation is mine. The sofrito is mine. He knows it. I know it. We do not discuss it. We just cook.

Called Mami after dinner. She and Ana had their Christmas in Bayamon. She said, How was the pernil? I said, Perfect. She said, More garlic next time. Merry Christmas, Mami. Merry Christmas, mi amor. The table was full. The food was good. Everyone I love was fed. That is Christmas. That is everything. Wepa.

After a Christmas that full — that loud and warm and layered with feeling — I needed something simple for the days that followed, something I could make in a quiet kitchen without ceremony or choreography. The pasta salad Eduardo loves was exactly right: cool, creamy, forgiving, the kind of dish that asks nothing of you except that you show up and stir. Enough mayo to make Mami raise an eyebrow, enough love to make it taste like home. Here’s how I make it.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 10–12

Ingredients

1 pound elbow macaroni (or medium shells)
1 1/2 cups mayonnaise
1/4 cup sour cream
2 tablespoons yellow mustard
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
Salt and black pepper to taste
2 cups cooked ham, diced into small cubes
1 1/2 cups frozen sweet peas, thawed
1/2 cup red onion, finely diced
1/2 cup celery, finely diced
1/2 cup sweet pickle relish
3 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped
1/4 cup pimientos or roasted red peppers, chopped (optional)
Paprika for garnish

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook the elbow macaroni according to package directions until just past al dente — you want it slightly soft so it holds the dressing well. Drain and rinse under cold water until completely cool.
Make the dressing. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, sour cream, mustard, apple cider vinegar, sugar, garlic powder, and onion powder until smooth and well combined. Season generously with salt and black pepper.
Combine. Add the cooled pasta to the bowl and toss to coat thoroughly with the dressing. Fold in the diced ham, thawed peas, red onion, celery, sweet pickle relish, and chopped eggs. If using pimientos, fold those in as well.
Taste and adjust. Taste the salad and adjust seasoning — add more salt, vinegar, or a pinch of sugar as needed. The dressing should be creamy, tangy, and a little sweet.
Chill. Cover the bowl tightly and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to overnight. The pasta will absorb some of the dressing as it sits; stir before serving and add an extra spoonful of mayonnaise if it looks dry.
Serve. Transfer to a serving bowl and dust lightly with paprika. Serve cold alongside the main dishes. It keeps, covered in the refrigerator, for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamy Pasta Salad with Ham & Peas — Eduardo’s Favorite at the Christmas Table