I made some poor man's potato salad today. Or maybe it's poor woman's potato salad. But some might consider it rich woman's potato salad. I make a really good potato salad. This was not it. Oh, it's serviceable, as potato salads go. Better than a store-bought potato salad, all sickly sweet and slimy and pale yellow. But still. Not up to my regular standards.
I was not about to spend my Labor Day sweating over food. That's a man's job, by cracky! Farmer H fired up the old black kettle Weber, not Gassy G, to grill pork steaks. I knew he was not going to make potato salad. And I was not in the mood to boil and peel potatoes, boil and peel eggs, and chop them and douse them with mustard and mayo and diced dill pickle and onion. So I thought of a shortcut.
Today was the weekly Devil's Playground shopping trip. I tossed in some canned whole potatoes, and a packet of six already-boiled and peeled eggs. After putting the groceries away, I rinsed off those potatoes from their can juice as best I could, and sliced them along with three of the eggs. I dumped in my other ingredients, tasted, filled two recycled hot & sour soup containers with it, and set it on the top shelf of Frig for the flavors to marry. I must say, it turned out remarkably well for a short-cut side dish. Just a little moist from the canned potatoes.
So we feasted on BBQ pork steaks, potato salad, slaw, and fresh strawberries. A meal fit for the Emperor of Hillmomba.
Oh, the other three eggs made egg salad for lunch, on 15-grain Pepperidge Farm bread. It's a new product to our Mansion. It will be invited back.
Another Labor Day. Twelve days closer to the end of the school year.