Labor Day. Second one without Dad's grill, but the first one where I'm the one doing the cooking. Not grilling — I haven't mastered the grill yet, and the propane grill on the back patio is Ryan's domain that I haven't touched since he left. But I made the sides. All of them.
Jen brought hot dogs (her concession to effort — 'I have a toddler, Rachel. Hot dogs are the ceiling.') and I made Mom's potato salad, baked beans, and coleslaw. A full spread. In my kitchen. For my friend and her son. On a holiday.
The potato salad was good. Not the first attempt from Memorial Day with the overcooked potatoes — this one was correct. Firm potatoes, eggs properly hard-boiled (seven minutes at a boil, into ice water immediately — Mom's method), the right balance of mayo and mustard. I tasted it before serving and heard Mom's voice: 'A little more salt.' I added a pinch. It was right.
Jen ate two helpings and said, 'This is the best potato salad I've ever had.' I said, 'It's my mom's recipe.' She said, 'It's YOUR potato salad. You made it. Own it.'
Own it. Dana said that about food writing. Jen says it about potato salad. Everyone keeps telling me to own the things I do.
Ryan called during the cookout. I put him on speaker so Jen could say hi and Dylan could babble at the phone, and Ryan laughed — a real laugh, the kind I haven't heard in months — and said, 'Sounds like a party.' It does. It is. A small party, a hot dog and potato salad party, but it's mine.
I wrote in the journal tonight. About the potato salad. About owning it. About the difference between 'my mom's potato salad' and 'MY potato salad.' Both are true. Both are the same recipe. But one is inherited and the other is claimed. I'm claiming it now. Not because I'm better than Mom — I'll never be better than Mom — but because it came out of MY hands, in MY kitchen, for MY people.
That's what ownership means. Not changing the recipe. Not improving it. Just making it with your own hands and saying: this is mine now. This came from me.
Labor Day. Hot dogs and potato salad and a phone call from Okinawa and a baby who kicked through the whole thing.
My potato salad. My holiday. My life.
I'm owning it.
Jen told me to own the potato salad, and I’m doing exactly that — but the spread that day was bigger than one dish, and that’s the part I keep coming back to. It wasn’t just the potato salad that made it feel like my cookout; it was the whole table, every bowl and plate that came out of my kitchen. This Quick Vegetable Salad is the kind of recipe that belongs on that table — crisp, honest, and easy enough that you can make it alongside everything else without losing your mind. It’s the salad I’ll reach for next time, because a spread worth owning deserves more than one thing to be proud of.
Quick Vegetable Salad
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 cups broccoli florets, cut small
- 2 cups cauliflower florets, cut small
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
- 1 cup cucumber, diced
- 1/2 cup red onion, thinly sliced
- 1/2 cup celery, sliced thin
- 1/3 cup Italian dressing
- 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon dried basil
- Salt and black pepper to taste
Instructions
- Prep the vegetables. Cut broccoli and cauliflower into bite-sized florets. Dice cucumber, halve cherry tomatoes, and thinly slice red onion and celery.
- Combine. Add all vegetables to a large mixing bowl and toss together until evenly distributed.
- Make the dressing. In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the Italian dressing, red wine vinegar, garlic powder, and dried basil.
- Dress and season. Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss well to coat. Taste and adjust with salt and black pepper as needed.
- Rest and serve. Let the salad sit for 5–10 minutes before serving so the vegetables absorb the dressing. Serve chilled or at room temperature alongside your cookout spread.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 75 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 9g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 128 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.
