Strawberry Pasta Salad

Fourth of July prep week. The kitchen became a staging ground — a military operation of marinades, doughs, and lists taped to the refrigerator with magnets shaped like ears of corn that Mom gave me years ago, the kind of gift that is only available in Iowa gift shops and only appreciated by people who grew up measuring their year in planting and harvest.

The pork tenderloin is pounded and breaded and waiting in the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic, thick as a catcher's mitt. The buns are store-bought because some battles aren't worth fighting and the tenderloin is the star and the bun is the stage and the stage doesn't need to be homemade. The potato salad is Mom's recipe — Yukon Golds, hard-boiled eggs, celery, onion, sweet pickle relish, yellow mustard, mayonnaise. The proportions are not written anywhere. They live in my hands the way they lived in Marlene's hands and in her mother's hands before that. You add mustard until it looks right. You add mayo until it tastes right. If you need a measurement, you don't know the recipe yet.

Dad is driving down from Grinnell with Mom. They're bringing strawberries from the garden — the strawberries Roger planted for Marlene, the love story told in fruit, now ripe and ready for the shortcake I promised. Dad sounded good on the phone. Strong. The bypass was over a year ago and he's moving better, gardening harder, complaining about the corporate farm's soybean rotation with the specific venom of a man who knows they're doing it wrong and can't do a thing about it. Complaining is good. Complaining means energy. Complaining means he still cares enough to be angry, and anger is closer to life than resignation.

Jack's watermelon is the size of a cantaloupe now. He measured it this morning: seven-point-two inches in diameter. Marcus's watermelon is six-point-eight. Jack is winning. The victory is contained but visible — a slight straightening of the spine, a quiet satisfaction in the data. Marcus called to concede the lead but not the war. The war continues through August. The boys are magnificent in their obsession.

With the tenderloin and the potato salad already spoken for, I needed one more dish that could hold its own on a table that size — something that honored the strawberries Dad brought down from Grinnell without burying them in cream or cake before we even got to the shortcake. This pasta salad was the answer: bright, a little sweet, a little tangy, and festive enough to look intentional next to a red-white-and-blue spread. It felt right to let Roger’s strawberries do double duty — a little glory in the salad bowl, and then their proper finale in the shortcake. Marlene would have approved of getting the most out of a good berry.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 30 min (plus 1 hr chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

12 oz bow-tie (farfalle) pasta
2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
1 cup seedless red grapes, halved
3 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup celery, thinly sliced
1/3 cup sliced almonds, toasted
1/3 cup poppy seed dressing
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
1 tablespoon honey
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook bow-tie pasta according to package directions until al dente, about 10 minutes. Drain, rinse under cold water, and let cool completely.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the poppy seed dressing, apple cider vinegar, honey, salt, and pepper until smooth and well combined.
Combine the salad. In a large bowl, toss the cooled pasta with the sliced strawberries, red grapes, green onions, and celery. Pour the dressing over the top and toss gently to coat without crushing the berries.
Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour to let the flavors come together. The dressing will soak into the pasta and the strawberries will release a little juice — both are good things.
Finish and serve. Just before serving, scatter the toasted almonds over the top. Taste for seasoning and add a pinch more salt or a drizzle of honey if needed. Serve cold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry Pasta Salad — Roger’s Garden Comes to the Table