Salads & Sides

I’ll never forget the summer my Aunt Linda brought this “salad” to our family reunion. It showed up in a big glass bowl, topped with sliced strawberries and a golden brown crumble that shimmered like it knew it was about to be famous. I took one bite — just to be polite — and found myself circling back to the buffet line three times like a raccoon at a campfire. Let’s be honest: this isn’t really a salad. It’s more of a deconstructed cheesecake with a salty-sweet crunch that could make even the grumpiest uncle grin. And once you’ve made …

I’m gonna be honest with you—this salad isn’t fancy. It won’t win any Michelin stars. Heck, it barely qualifies as a “salad” if you ask the lettuce purists. But you know what? It’s the first thing gone at every cookout. I first tasted this little bowl of joy at a Fourth of July potluck years ago. My friend Karen brought it in a big ol’ Tupperware and said, “Try this, you’ll thank me later.” I did. I did thank her. Then I asked for the recipe, made it the next weekend, and now it’s in my regular summer rotation like …

Let me tell you, the first time I made this Layered Dublin Salad, it wasn’t even for a holiday—it was a random Tuesday, I think. I’d stumbled on an old Irish cookbook at a flea market (you know the kind, soft pages, no pictures, just honest food), and tucked in the corner was a scribbled version of this beauty. Now, I’m not saying it changed my life… but it sure made that week’s leftovers a lot more exciting. It’s crisp, colorful, and hearty, but not fussy. It’s got those old-fashioned Midwestern vibes—like the layered salads my Aunt Peggy used to …

There are certain recipes that don’t really belong to anyone, though we all like to pretend otherwise. This Shoepeg Salad (or “shoe peg”—I’ve written it both ways, not sure which is proper) is one of those dishes that just floated through my life without much explanation. I can’t say who made it first. My mother swore it came from her neighbor back in Tulsa, but then my sister insists she saw it on a church potluck table in Mississippi in the late seventies. And me? I just know it showed up one afternoon in a Tupperware bowl on my back …

Some dishes don’t just fill your belly — they fill your heart. This creamy seafood salad, made with good ol’ imitation crab, takes me straight back to Sunday potlucks at the church hall and lazy lake days with family when no one was in a rush to be anywhere. If you grew up in the Midwest like I did, you know we have our own way of bringing the coast inland. We may not have oceanfront views, but we sure know how to serve up a seafood salad that tastes like it came straight from the shore — even if …

Let me tell you something. The first time I made this Moroccan Beet Salad, it was a chilly Tuesday in March, and I was aching for color. Not just on my plate, but in my day. I stood in my kitchen with the windows cracked open just a bit — enough to catch a whiff of the neighbor’s firewood, enough to remind me that spring wasn’t quite here yet. But then I grated those beets — that deep, ruby-red hue practically sang out, and suddenly I was transported. Not to my cluttered kitchen, but to a sun-washed Moroccan courtyard, full …

You know how every summer barbecue has that table — the one with the cold salads, big bowls of pasta, and a plate of deviled eggs disappearing faster than the burgers? That’s basically my childhood. There was always somebody’s “famous” pasta salad and someone else’s “you have to try them” deviled eggs. And one day, I thought… why not just put them together? That’s how this “Eggcellent Pasta Delight” happened. Honestly, it’s just deviled egg flavors and pasta hanging out in the same bowl, and somehow it tastes like it’s always been a thing. Creamy, tangy, a little nostalgic. Why …

Seafood wasn’t a regular guest at our table growing up in the Midwest. We were more of a meatloaf and mashed potatoes family. But every once in a while, Mama would surprise us — a little shrimp cocktail at Christmas, maybe a can of crab meat mixed into something “fancy” for Sunday lunch. And just like that, our dining room felt like it had drifted a few hundred miles closer to the ocean. This salad? It scratches that same itch for me now, only without the wait for a holiday. It’s creamy, a little briny, and has that Old Bay …

Okay. Let me just say this right off the bat:I did not expect this salad to be a hit. I really didn’t. It’s peas. You know? Not exactly thrilling. But years ago, I saw a version of this floating around in one of those old church cookbooks — the kind with hand-drawn little veggies in the margins and at least four recipes for “congealed salad.” I gave it a shot. Tossed it together one weekend when we had friends coming by. I figured, hey, worst-case scenario, we’ll eat it ourselves all week. Well. We did not have leftovers. And now …

You know that one dish that shows up at every cookout, every potluck, every casual Tuesday night when nobody feels like cooking? Yeah. This is that dish. This marinated cucumber, onion, and tomato salad has been in my life longer than half the people in my contacts list. I remember my mom pulling it out of the fridge in a big green Tupperware bowl — condensation clinging to the lid, the smell of vinegar and dill sneaking out before it even hit the table. She didn’t follow a recipe, not really. It was just “a splash of this, a sprinkle …