It Ain’t Just Potato Salad

Arianna awoke about an hour before the alarm clock at her bedside had a chance to wail. She shut it off, no longer needing the buzzer. The dread that engulfed her the previous evening almost choked her now. She swallowed hard, and climbed out of bed. Moving robotically, she showered and dressed before heading down to the kitchen.

It was impossible to avoid – the cause of all her angst. Still sitting on the table, the envelope addressed to her was disfigured with the words “FINAL NOTICE” in large red letters. She had ignored the ‘Past Due’ notices from the bank for as long as possible. Now, that was no longer an option.

Final Notice, she thought. Those have to be the two ugliest words in the English language. Final - meaning ‘it’s your last chance’ and Notice –meaning ‘you have been warned.’

Putting on a pot of coffee, Arianna took a deep breath. This place had been in her family for over 100 years. And now, it was balancing on the precipice… she couldn’t bear it.

One hundred years, she lamented. And I lose it six months after I inherit it.

She sighed, remembering how grandma Gigi made baked apples for her in this very kitchen. She remembered how Gigi let her decorate sugar cookies with royal icing piled high with nonpareils and sanding sugar. Later, before she hit her teenage years, she remembered helping Gigi bake cupcakes for the school fair, and Gigi’s famous sweet potato pie for the annual Port Arlington Festival. Her sweet potato pies sold out before lunchtime every year. These were such precious memories of her youth.

Arianna wiped away a single tear. How could I have fallen so far behind? I can’t lose this house.

Not one disposed to wallowing in self-pity, Arianna lifted her head, stood tall and poured herself a cup of joe.

Cuppa, she thought. Grandma Gigi loved a cuppa in the morning. ‘Just need a cuppa to jump start the brain cells,’ she’d say.

Coffee was the only habit Arianna and Gigi had in common, at least when it came to the kitchen. She hadn’t inherited any of Gigi’s culinary skills, no matter how hard she tried. Her cooking was best done in a microwave. Her mother had been no better, excelling at “ordering in.” All the magic that Gigi could foment with simple ingredients skipped a couple of generations. 

Arianna looked around the kitchen and sighed. Shelves that were once stocked full, were now mostly bare. The kitchen clock, shaped like a rooster, no longer crowed at the top of the hour. A basket full of unread newspapers sat near the door. Although she had no interest in the politics du jour, she hadn’t cancelled the daily delivery because that would have been like admitting defeat. Sarah, the nosy next-door neighbor, would certainly have noticed her cutting back on expenses. And anything Sarah suspected, would be fodder for the neighborhood gossip mill.

No need to let the neighbors see how desperate I am. Besides, it’s a small price to pay to keep up appearances.

She made her way out the front door to pick up today’s paper. Waving at Sarah, who was peering at her from her bay window, she picked up the Port Arlington Daily Journal.

How on earth does she time my paper run every morning? It’s not like I’m on a schedule. It doesn’t matter if I collect the paper at 6am, 10am or 2 pm. She’s always at her window watching me. It’s uncanny!

Arianna quickly re-entered her house before Sarah could come out and engage her in conversation, which she was prone to do. Today was not a day for casual chit-chat with the piffler. There was serious business she had to contemplate. She needed a plan of action. Before she was put out on the street.

She threw the newspaper on the kitchen table and re-filled her coffee cup. Grabbing a pen and paper, she sat down, optimistic that she could come up with a plan. But something caught her eye. Staring up from the pages of the Journal was an advertisement for the tomorrow’s Port Arlington Festival. She put down her pen. 

It’s kismet, she thought. It has to be.

What caught Arianna’s attention was the prize money for the winner of a contest. Written in large red letters – the irony of which did not escape her - were the words:

              FIRST PRIZE: $50,000

Arianna took a deep breath, and allowed herself a momentary daydream. This was almost as good as winning the lottery! She looked for a catch in the fine print. No catch. Win and you get the prize money. Coming to her local festival will be representatives from R.D. Offutt Farms, the largest potato farm in the US, with acreage spanning six midwestern states. They are looking for new, innovative potato recipes to boost sales in both domestic and international markets. And they are big enough to pay handsomely.

Different areas are being offered different contests, but the prizes are the same. In the Port Arlington area, they are seeking a new, unique, twist on the ubiquitous side dish - potato salad. In the northeastern US, they have a contest for new potato chip products, and in the southwest, they are looking for a twist on French Fries. In Canada, they have a contest for using dehydrated potatoes. And the list goes on.

Arianna couldn’t believe the good news. Gigi had the most delicious recipe for potato salad. People loved it - said it was the best thing they ever ate. . . except for maybe her sweet potato pie. Everyone wanted the recipe, but Gigi would simply say it was a family secret, passed down from her great grandmother.

That makes it six generations old, Arianna thought as she counted on her fingers. Six generations of making out-of-this-world potato salad in our family - excluding me and mom, of course.

She remembered asking her grandmother what made it so special. Gigi had smiled, but all she would say was that it had a special ingredient, and that it was made with love.

If Arianna could make Gigi’s potato salad, she would win the contest. Without question, she was sure. Hands down! Then she could pay the bank what she owed, and save her house. 

I can do it. I know it! Hmmm, I need to get organized. First thing, I gotta find the recipe. I know it’s here somewhere.

Arianna began rummaging through the drawers in the kitchen. Then she started opening the cabinet doors. After going through all the base cabinets, she started on the hanging cabinets. Nothing but some canned food, some dried fruits and vegetables, and a few science experiments.

The only cabinet she couldn’t reach was the small one situated over the refrigerator. It was too high. She pulled a chair over from the kitchen table and stood on it. Reaching the cabinet knobs now, she pulled opened the doors. From what she could see peering up into the cabinet, it looked empty. But when she stuck her hand inside, she could feel some papers lying flat.  Stretching and straining on her tip toes, she braced herself with her right hand against the front of the refrigerator and reached as far back in the cabinet as she could with her left hand. She grabbed a handful of papers.

Fingers crossed, she thought, hopefully. As she pulled the papers out of the cabinet, her right hand slipped off the front of the fridge, and her weight shifted, sliding the chair across the floor. Before she could catch herself, she fell, grazing her head on the corner of a nearby counter top. She landed on her back with a loud thud, the papers scattering all over the kitchen floor.

“YOWCH!” she shouted. Stunned, and in some pain, she lay on the kitchen floor for a few seconds. Then she heard a knock on the front door.

“Yoohoo! Yoohoo! Arianna are you okay?” came a shrill voice. “It’s me, Sarah, your next-door neighbor. I heard a loud crash.”

Oh gosh, not her. Please Lord, make her go away.

“I’m fine, Sarah. Just cleaning and knocked over a chair. No need to worry. Everything is fine,” Arianna yelled from her supine position. She dared not go to the door, because she could feel blood dripping from the cut that had opened on her forehead.

This headache is gonna be a doozy. Sarah would probably call an ambulance if she saw me like this. UGH. I’d never get rid of her then.

“Okey dokey, honey. If you say so,” Sarah said in her most annoying sing-songy tone. “I heard you howl, so I figured I’d check to make sure you were all right– just being neighborly, you know.”

“I appreciate that,” Arianna said, with a tad too much sarcasm. She slowly picked herself off the floor and added, “Really, it’s very nice of you, but not necessary.” 

Arianna waited a minute or two, afraid to move, before she peeked out the window to make sure Sarah had gone back to her own house.

She’s bewitched! I’m convinced. No way she heard any of that from inside her house.

After getting a cold compress and a bandage for her head, plus an aspirin for the throbbing that had already taken up residency in her brain, she began to pick up the papers that had fallen. Amongst the papers, she saw it. In Gigi’s handwriting, a worn piece of paper … and written across the top were the words:

GGma’s Potato Salad Recipe – SECRET.

EUREKA!!!

Excited, she quickly picked up the rest of the papers. She was a little less excited when she saw that some of her blood had splattered on the one paper she needed, covering parts of the recipe. She tried to wipe the blood off, but that only smeared it. So she decided to let it dry and do the best she could to figure out the missing parts.

Returning to the table, she readied her pen to re-write whatever she could make it out.

XXX eggs

4 red XXXXX

¾ cup mayo

2 tablespoons XXXXXd

2 tableXXXX parsley

2 celery XXXXX

1 teaspoon onion powder

Salt 

PeXXXXX

A smattering of love

Hmmm. This is harder than I thought. I’m going to have to make some educated guesses. 

Arianna tried to think back to her childhood when she watched Gigi make the potato salad. 

Think logically. OK, first, this recipe is about potatoes – they are the star, so I doubt eggs would be the first ingredient. She must not have written down ‘potatoes’, since it’s obvious they are included. . .

And Arianna began to write down what she needed to buy. Armed with her list, she headed to the grocery store.

****

Potatoes? um– lets see. I'm guessing I need a lot.

The largest bag was labeled 10 LBS.

Ten pounds – that should do it. And she put the large bag of potatoes in her cart.

Eggs-Sold by the dozen. Great. I’ll get a dozen. 

4 red something…ugh, what’s red? Hey…Radishes!! They are definitely red. I’ll get 4 bunches of radishes!! That will make my, I mean Gigi’s, potato salad nice and colorful.

¾ cup Mayo-hmmm, they don’t sell that in ¾ cup increments, only large jars. What a waste. I know, I’ll get a couple of packets at the deli counter. Cheaper that way, too.

What’s next? 2 tablespoons of what? It ends with a “d” – Swiss Chard! Why not? And parsley and celery! Lots of greens. Of course. It is a salad, after all! 

Onion powder – I’ll just get an onion and mash it up into small bits like a powder would be. Maybe put it in the blender. Yeah, that’ll do!

Salt- easy-peasy. No need to get. I have that at home. But what about 'Pe'? – that’s a little trickier. What could 'Pe' be?

Suddenly, Arianna smiled. An idea came to her as she picked up the last ingredients, paid for her groceries and made her way home to start cooking.

****

Once home, Arianna unpacked her car under the watchful eye of her neighbor. She pretended not to hear Sarah call out as she pulled the last grocery bag from her car trunk and quickly entered her house to begin making the sure-fire, award-winning spuds to save her house.

After peeling all ten pounds of potatoes, Arianna put them in a very large pot of boiling water and began cooking. She took out a pan and fried the dozen eggs, cut up the 4 bunches of radishes (stems and all) and squeezed the mayonnaise out of the little packets she had grabbed from the deli counter at the grocery store.

Tired, but determined, she diced the Swiss chard, parsley and celery. She took out the blender and pureed the onion, added salt. She decided to hold off on adding the special 'Pe' ingredient, until she had combined everything else.

So, once everything was cooked, fried, chopped, squeezed and pureed, she began the assembly process. Finding a bowl large enough was difficult. She eventually settled on mixing the ingredients in a large Sterilite storage tote she found in the attic. The potatoes, still being whole, were hard to mix, so she took out a potato masher she found in the kitchen and started mashing.

After mashing the potatoes with the rest of the ingredients, the potato salad seemed a bit too dry.

Time for the secret ingredient, she thought. I bet Gigi didn’t think I’d figure it out!

And she dragged a case of Pepsi over to her seat. One by one, she opened a can of the caramel-colored liquid and poured it into the potato-containing tote. When all twelve cans were empty, she resumed mixing. Her potato salad was no longer dry.

This looks perfect…just as I remember! Finally, finito!

Exhausted, Arianna decided to forego a desperately needed shower and crawled into bed. The shower could wait, sleep could not. The festival was tomorrow, she needed her beauty rest in case photographers were there to snap pictures of her with the winning dish.

****

Festival Today!

Arianna quickly showered and dressed in her finest Sunday clothes. She wanted to get to the festival early, to register for the potato salad contest. She propped open her kitchen door so she could carry out the Sterilite tote filled with the spuds. Her grandmother’s potato salad, even with a little Arianna flair, would surely win. She could hardly wait to register.

It took all her might to pick up the heavy tote. Gingerly, she headed out the door moaning and groaning under the weight of the container. She didn’t bother to look and see if Sarah was watching from her usual position at the window. For once, she didn’t care. 

Let her see a winner!

She was almost to her car when disaster struck. Blinded by the size of the tote as she labored down the path to her car, she didn’t see the Port Arlington Daily Journal on the walkway. As fate would have it, she tripped over the newspaper. When she stumbled, she accidently let go of the tote. The lid came off when it hit the ground. The next thing she knew, she had a caramel-colored potato salad lawn.

“NOOOOOOO!” she screamed as she looked at the mess. All her dreams…her house…the bank. Gone because of that darn paper. 

Of course, Sarah was at her side in an instant. Arianna hardly acknowledged her neighbor, still staring in horror and disbelief at what used to be a green lawn.

“Oh dearie, I’m so sorry,” Sarah told her. To Arianna, it sounded as if Sarah was underwater, making sounds, but not really speaking. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs.

“It was for the festival…for the contest. My grandmother’s recipe. It would have won,” Arianna said sadly.

“I knew you were cooking up a storm yesterday, when I saw all those groceries.”

“I’m gonna lose the house,” Arianna said, no longer caring what Sarah or any of the gossipy neighbors thought. Her spirit was crushed. “The prize money. I owe the bank…”

Sarah looked directly at her neighbor. “Look at me,” she said sternly. “We won’t let that happen. I’ve been trying to catch you for a week-ever since R.D. Offutt Farms announced they were coming to Port Arlington and running this contest.”

“But why?”

“Your grandmother and I were close friends, living side by side for over 30 years. She was a marvelous person, your Gigi. When she became ill, she gave me a copy of her secret recipes – she was so proud of them. She made me swear not to give them to anyone but you. She had misplaced the originals at some point, but had copies.”

“Oh, so you have her recipes? They aren’t lost?”

“Not only aren’t they lost, but, well…I’m sorry, but she told me you were a terrible cook. So, when I saw the contest in the paper, I made a batch of her potato salad. I was going to give it to you to enter. It is rightfully yours, since it is your Gigi’s recipe. I tried to tell you…”

“We…we can still enter? We still have a chance?”

“We don’t, but you do. You take it to the festival and enter it as your recipe. I don’t need the money, and like I said, it is rightfully yours. Gigi would want it this way. I do think it is a winner…so, go clean up and I’ll drive you there. We have to hurry, before the registration window closes. We’ll take care of this mess later.”

Sarah had added the final ingredient, the one Arianna had forgotten. She gave Sarah a big hug. “I don’t have words…”

“Come on, let’s go win this thing. For Gigi!” Sarah said.

Arianna smiled. “For Gigi!”