I asked her for her recipe recently, and because I’m her daughter, I subbed and swapped and tweaked (to do this to a mother’s idea is just short of genetic obligation), but it’s still her salad, in essence: burly and rich from olive oil and mayonnaise (make your own if you’re inclined; it’s not necessary); brisk from pickles; heady from tarragon. If you forgo the hard boiled egg you don’t know up from down. Well-chilled and left to meld, It bears a lot of flavor resemblance to Sauce Gribiche, which is likely why it tugs my heartstrings quite like it does.
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<br />I’d walk you through it, but you know how to make this: Boil the potatoes; toss; mix; do as you do. Potato salad’s beauty is not in its technique.
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<br />It’s my mother’s birthday soon, and I think I’ll make it for her, my way. You’d be smart to make it for the Fourth, and every week thereafter, until the temperatures drop and the sun shines shorter. Always make extra -- you’ll want the leftovers -- and then spend the rest of the day outside.

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