By New Year's. Black-eyed peas for luck. Greens for money. Cornbread because cornbread. Derek made me coffee at midnight. Twenty seconds before twelve, he found me in the kitchen and put a mug in my hand.
I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.
The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.
Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.
Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.
I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.
I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.
Sunday service at New Birth this morning. The choir sang. I sang soprano in the second alto row. Pastor preached about Naomi and Ruth. The congregation said amen. I said amen.
The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.
Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.
I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.
Saturday morning I had Set the Table at the Cascade Heights center. Twelve young women. We did baked chicken. One of them — Imani, sixteen — was so afraid of seasoning that she barely shook the salt. I stood next to her and put my hand over hers and said, baby, you cannot be afraid of food. We seasoned the chicken. The chicken came out right. She glowed.
Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.
Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.
Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.
Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.
I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.
Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.
The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.
Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.
When Miss Ernestine called Tuesday and told me — for the third time this year — that my potato salad still needs more mustard, I didn’t argue. You don’t argue with ninety-something years of kitchen wisdom. So this week I went back to my bowl, added another two tablespoons, and let the thing chill overnight the way she always said to. This Russian potato salad is the version I’ve been building toward: eggs, pickles, peas, and yes, Miss Ernestine, enough mustard to mean it. The pan came back empty at the potluck. That’s the only review I trust.
Russian Potato Salad
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min + 2 hrs chill | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 lbs Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled and cubed
- 3 medium carrots, peeled and diced
- 4 large eggs
- 1 cup frozen green peas, thawed
- 4 dill pickles, finely diced (about 3/4 cup)
- 2 tablespoons pickle brine
- 3/4 cup mayonnaise
- 2 tablespoons yellow mustard
- 1 teaspoon salt, plus more for boiling
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped (optional)
Instructions
- Boil the potatoes and carrots. Place cubed potatoes and diced carrots in a large pot, cover with salted water, and bring to a boil. Cook 15–18 minutes until fork-tender but not mushy. Drain and spread on a sheet pan to cool completely.
- Hard-boil the eggs. While the vegetables cook, place eggs in a saucepan, cover with cold water, and bring to a boil. Remove from heat, cover, and let sit 12 minutes. Transfer to an ice bath, then peel and roughly chop.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together mayonnaise, mustard, pickle brine, salt, and black pepper until smooth. Taste and adjust mustard to your preference — be generous.
- Combine. In a large mixing bowl, gently fold together the cooled potatoes, carrots, chopped eggs, peas, and diced pickles. Pour the dressing over and fold until everything is evenly coated without mashing the potatoes.
- Chill. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours, or overnight. The flavor deepens as it sits. Garnish with fresh dill before serving if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 230 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 23g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 510mg