By Pioneer Day landed on a Tuesday this year and we spent the afternoon at the parade in American Fork, which always feels like the right kind of small-town celebration — floats that clearly took months of work, bands that are earnestly enthusiastic, kids scrambling for candy, and enough community overlap that we ran into four families we knew in the first hour.
I made the same potato salad I make every July 24th. It started as my grandmother's recipe — red potatoes, celery, hard-boiled eggs, a dressing that's equal parts mayo and a little yellow mustard with a splash of apple cider vinegar for brightness. Over the years I've added fresh dill and a handful of chopped pickles and now it's mine and hers at the same time, which is how recipes ought to travel.
Gary's parents came with us this year, which they haven't in a while. The kids were excited to have Grandma and Grandpa along. Ethan is fifteen now and going through that phase where he's simultaneously too cool for the parade and secretly delighted by everything, which I find completely endearing. He caught a peppermint patty out of the air and immediately gave it to Noah, who is six and at peak candy enthusiasm. That small moment made the whole afternoon.
In the evening we grilled at home — burgers, corn, the potato salad — and sat outside until the mosquitoes got too bad. Gary's mom asked me how the workshops were going and I found myself telling the whole story, including the calls from Provo and the expansion questions, and she listened carefully and said, "Michelle, you have a gift for making people feel capable." I think about that differently than "you're a good cook." This was about something else. Something I didn't fully recognize in myself until she named it.
The summer is in full swing. Noah starts first grade in five weeks. Life is moving at the pace it always does — faster than I expect and exactly as it should.
That evening around the table—burgers, corn, potato salad, people I love—reminded me how much the side dishes carry a summer meal. The potato salad is Grandma’s and mine now, but this Creamy Pea Salad has quietly earned its place in that same rotation: cool and a little sweet, with the kind of satisfying simplicity that lets the conversation stay front and center. It’s exactly what you want on a warm July evening when the point is the people, not the cooking.
Creamy Pea Salad
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 bag (16 oz) frozen peas, thawed
- 1/2 cup sharp cheddar cheese, cubed or shredded
- 1/2 cup red onion, finely diced
- 6 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1/4 cup mayonnaise
- 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Instructions
- Thaw the peas. Spread frozen peas on a clean kitchen towel or paper towels and pat dry. You want them thawed but not soggy so the dressing clings well.
- Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the sour cream, mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, sugar, salt, and black pepper until smooth and well combined.
- Combine. Add the peas, cheddar cheese, and red onion to the bowl with the dressing. Stir gently to coat everything evenly.
- Add the bacon. Fold in the crumbled bacon, reserving a small amount to sprinkle on top for garnish if desired.
- Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving to let the flavors come together. Serve cold straight from the fridge.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 380mg