German Potato Salad -- The One Sylvia Would Have Approved Of (But Never Admitted)

Memorial Day weekend. Marvin and I drove out to the cemetery in Queens where Irving and Sylvia are buried, side by side, under matching headstones that Irving would have found extravagant and Sylvia would have found insufficient. I brought flowers — peonies, which were Sylvia's favorite, though she would never have spent money on flowers for herself because flowers die and brisket feeds people, and the hierarchy of expenditures was clear in the Rosen household.

I stood at their graves and did what I always do: talked. I told Irving about Ethan, how he has Irving's quiet way of watching the world, how he already studies people with the careful attention of a man who says what he means and nothing more. I told Sylvia about Sophie, how she is two months old and already has the Rosen women's grip — when she holds your finger, she holds it with conviction. I told them about the blog, about writing down the recipes that Sylvia kept in her head and never wrote down because writing them down would have been an admission that she might not always be there to make them, and Sylvia did not plan for her own absence. She was taken by surprise. We all were.

On the drive home, Marvin said, "Your mother would have loved the blog." I said, "My mother would have critiqued the blog." He said, "Same thing, with Sylvia." He is not wrong. Sylvia's love was expressed through correction. "The brisket is good but it needs another twenty minutes." "The kugel is fine but you used too much sugar." "You're a wonderful daughter but you should call more often." Every compliment came with an amendment. I miss the amendments. I miss them more than I miss the compliments, because the amendments meant she was paying attention, and attention was Sylvia's love language.

I made potato salad for a Memorial Day gathering at the Goldsteins'. My potato salad is not Ashkenazi — it is American, the kind with mayonnaise and mustard and celery, which Sylvia would have considered a betrayal of everything she stood for. But Sylvia is not here, and the Goldsteins are, and the Goldsteins like mayonnaise-based potato salad, and adaptation is how a cuisine survives. Even Ashkenazi cooking, born in the shtetls of Eastern Europe, adapted — to America, to Long Island, to a world Sylvia's mother could never have imagined. The potato salad is a compromise. Sylvia would not have approved. But she would have eaten three servings.

Summer stretches ahead. The garden is green. Marvin's tomatoes are coming in. The kitchen is warm. I am writing again tomorrow.

I said I made the mayonnaise version for the Goldsteins, and I did—but what I have been thinking about since we left the cemetery is this one, the German potato salad, the one that would have made Sylvia nod with something close to approval, because it is warm and sharp and dressed in vinegar the way the old country would have recognized. It is not her recipe, exactly, but it speaks the same language. I’m writing it down for the same reason I write all of them down: so the language doesn’t disappear.

German Potato Salad

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 2 pounds small waxy potatoes (such as Yukon Gold or red potatoes), unpeeled
• 6 slices thick-cut bacon, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
• 1 small yellow onion, finely diced
• 1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
• 2 tablespoons whole-grain or spicy brown mustard
• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon celery seed
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
• 3 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
• 2 green onions, thinly sliced

Instructions

1. Boil the potatoes. Place potatoes in a large pot and cover with cold salted water by at least an inch. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a steady simmer. Cook until potatoes are just tender when pierced with a knife, about 20–25 minutes. Drain and let cool just enough to handle—you want them still warm when you dress them.
2. Cook the bacon. While the potatoes cook, fry the bacon pieces in a large skillet over medium heat until crisp and the fat has rendered, about 8–10 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the bacon to a paper-towel-lined plate. Leave about 3 tablespoons of the drippings in the pan; discard the rest.
3. Soften the onion. Return the skillet with drippings to medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and just beginning to turn golden, about 5 minutes.
4. Build the dressing. Add the apple cider vinegar, chicken broth, mustard, sugar, celery seed, salt, and pepper to the skillet with the onion. Stir to combine and bring to a gentle simmer, scraping up any browned bits from the pan. Cook for 2–3 minutes until slightly reduced and the sugar has dissolved.
5. Slice and dress. Slice the warm potatoes into 1/4-inch rounds (or halve small ones) directly into a large serving bowl. Pour the warm dressing over the potatoes immediately and toss gently to coat. The potatoes will absorb the dressing as they sit—this is what you want.
6. Finish and serve. Fold in the reserved bacon, chopped parsley, and green onions. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Serve warm or at room temperature. This salad holds well and is even better after 30 minutes of resting.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 245 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 32g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 420mg