← Back to Blog

Pink and Purple Potato Salad — The Recipe That Earns Its Place on the Fourth of July Table

The backyard corn is chest-high. On me — not on Jack, whose chest is considerably lower, but on a five-foot-seven woman who grew up measuring corn against her own body the way other people measure children against doorframes. Chest-high in late June means the corn is ahead of schedule, which means the compost is working, which means Jack was right about the soil amendments, which means I'm being out-farmed by a seven-year-old. I'm not upset about it. I'm proud about it. But I'm also being out-farmed by a seven-year-old.

The Fourth of July is next week. I'm already planning — the menu, the guest list, the logistics of feeding fifteen people in a house that seats eight. Kevin's parents. Mom and Dad. Craig and family from Omaha. The formula is the same: pork tenderloin sandwiches, potato salad, baked beans, watermelon, corn on the cob, pie. The formula works. I don't change what works. I optimize what works. This year the optimization is homemade ice cream. Kevin bought an ice cream maker at a garage sale for twelve dollars and it works, and I'm making vanilla bean ice cream to go with the pie, and this is the kind of escalation that holiday cooking demands — each year a little more, a little better, a little closer to the meal you're building toward but never quite reaching because the perfect holiday meal is a moving target and the cooking is the pursuit.

I made a cucumber-tomato salad every day this week because the garden is producing cucumbers that I didn't plant — volunteer plants from last year's seeds, growing in the compost, making cucumbers that nobody asked for but everyone is eating. Sliced cucumbers, diced tomatoes, red onion, rice vinegar, dill, salt. It takes five minutes and tastes like summer and exists in the fridge as a permanent side dish from June through September.

Emma asked me to teach her to make pie crust this week. She's ten. She wants to learn pie crust. I said yes before she finished the sentence because there is no moment more important in the culinary transfer between mother and daughter than the moment the daughter says "teach me pie crust" and the mother says yes and they stand side by side at the counter and the flour flies and the butter stays cold and the water goes in a splash at a time. We made one crust. It was rough. It was thick in some places and thin in others. It was perfect. It was her first.

The potato salad is non-negotiable on our Fourth of July table — it’s been there every year, right next to the pork tenderloin and the baked beans, and I don’t mess with what works. But this year, with homemade ice cream joining the lineup and Emma learning to make pie crust, I felt the table deserved something that looked as festive as everything else felt. Pink and purple potatoes tumbled into a creamy, tangy dressing gave me exactly that — all the comfort of the classic I’ve always made, dressed up just enough to match the energy of a summer that’s already ahead of schedule.

Pink and Purple Potato Salad

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes (plus chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 lbs small pink-skinned potatoes (such as Red Bliss), halved
  • 1 1/2 lbs small purple potatoes, halved
  • 1 teaspoon salt, plus more for boiling water
  • 1/2 cup mayonnaise
  • 1/4 cup sour cream
  • 2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
  • 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
  • 3 stalks celery, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 small red onion, finely diced
  • 3 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped (or 1 tablespoon dried)
  • 3 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and chopped
  • 2 tablespoons fresh chives, sliced, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Boil the potatoes. Place pink and purple potatoes in a large pot and cover with cold, salted water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat and cook 15–18 minutes, until just fork-tender. Do not overcook — you want them to hold their shape. Drain and spread on a baking sheet to cool for at least 15 minutes.
  2. Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together mayonnaise, sour cream, apple cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, garlic powder, 1 teaspoon salt, and black pepper until smooth and combined.
  3. Combine. Add the cooled potatoes to the dressing along with the celery, red onion, dill, and hard-boiled eggs. Fold gently with a rubber spatula until everything is evenly coated, taking care not to break up the potatoes.
  4. Chill. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour before serving. The flavors improve significantly as it sits — overnight is even better if you’re making it ahead for a cookout.
  5. Garnish and serve. Just before serving, taste and adjust salt and vinegar as needed. Transfer to a serving bowl and top with fresh chives. Serve cold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 240 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 380mg

Diane Holloway
About the cook who shared this
Diane Holloway
Week 118 of Diane’s 30-year story · Des Moines, Iowa
Diane is a forty-six-year-old insurance adjuster in Des Moines who grew up on a four-hundred-acre farm that her family had worked since 1908. When commodity prices crashed and the bank came calling, the Webers lost the farm — four generations of heritage sold at auction. Diane left with her mother's casserole recipes and a cast iron skillet and rebuilt her life in the city. She cooks Midwest comfort food because it tastes like home, even when home doesn't exist anymore.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?