sweet potato salad

It's almost Easter, and that probably means something very different to me than it does to you. This time last year, I was in the midst of the cushiest job of my career, eating meat like a fucking animal, exercising regularly for the first time since I was playing softball in middle school, and generally living the life of a degenerate in every sense of the term. As an emotionally fragile individual broken down mentally by years of church-induced white guilt, the days leading up to Easter Sunday tend to put me in a reflective mood as I contemplate who I am and my place in the world; the holy Lenten season is a Catholic time of repentance and agonizing self-reproach, as we sinners count down the forty days and nights separating Ash Wednesday from the rebirth of our lord and savior, Jesus H. Christ, from his unjust entombment under Pontius Pilate, the infamous B-movie super-villain extraordinaire who haunts the dreams of Christian children all over the globe. Or maybe that was just me. I've got an overactive imagination, and I haven't grown out of it.

Anyway, the big thing about Lent is that for those six weeks, it's your job as a disciple to deprive yourself of the thing you love most on Earth - sugary sweets, potato chips, your wife. It's supposed to be a gesture of humility, showing God that you care enough about him and all that he's done for you to maybe lay off of the late-night fast food runs that you cherish so, or, if you're anything like me, to stay painfully sober for the entire allotted span of time. To be brief: so far, it sucks ass, but if I'm being honest, I've never felt better in my life. That sounds like a contradiction, and it is. I no longer have anything to muffle the overwhelming pressure of the transition I must make from young adult to regular adult, and I've started getting really into rooibos tea. I don't eat mindlessly for comfort anymore. I've been reading a lot of Jung. He was a fascinating man, and I've got the divine spirit of the lord within me to thank for that.

As much of a mess as I am now, my current condition is absolutely nothing compared to the shit-show I was running one year ago next Sunday. Last Easter was actually the fateful day I learned that I do indeed suffer from some type of lactose intolerance. How did I reach this conclusion? I was very depressed and just getting into cooking at the time - I was completely alone for the day of immortal redemption, and, as a result, I went a little pink and decided to make myself a feast. Was it the standard fare of the holiday? Of course not, I'm a fucking idiot. Instead of glazing up a ham and baking off some balsamic asparagus like a normal, God-fearing woman, I took the day in a slightly more avant-garde direction and whipped up a rack of barbecue ribs and a potato salad, picnic-style, for reasons I am still unable to articulate to this day. It was incredible, and everybody at work could smell the meal hanging out of my ass until the following Wednesday at the very least.

Now, I'm a reformed reprobate; no longer the thoughtless monster I once was, I'm using today's entry to turn back the proverbial clock and show that I truly do feel remorse for my past transgressions in the only way I know how - through an arbitrary post on the internet, sent out impersonally and for all to see. This one goes out to you, Dom. I'm sorry you had to inhale the stench of my terrible sour cream farts for my first three months on the job at the very least.

On this blessed Friday morning, we're making a potato salad, vegan-style and more delicious than the old me would have ever thought possible. We're keeping this thing so pure, I'm not even going to use any of that disgusting vegan mayonnaise they sell at Lassen's for seven dollars a bottle. That stuff is foul as hell, it's just pretending to be something it's not.

one large sweet potato, cubed and steamed

four stalks of cauliflower stems

one radish

four green onions

three cloves of pressed garlic

two tablespoons of olive oil

one quarter of a cup of red wine vinegar

two tablespoons of dijon mustard

one tablespoon of sea salt

one tablespoon of black pepper

one half of a tablespoon of cayenne pepper

one tablespoon of dried dill

Ordinarily, I would definitely recommend using celery instead of cauliflower greens, but this is what I had on hand, and, like I've been saying, I'm on a fucking budget. The crunch-factor is there. You're just going to have to trust me on this one.

Objectively, the most important aspect of any potato salad worth the salt it's seasoned with is the ratio of luscious, pillowy potato matter to the solid bits of raw vegetables used to undercut what would otherwise be a very bland textural experience. In conjuncture with the aforementioned stalks, we're going to throw in some diced-up radish into the mix for an added peppery kick; I got a bunch of these on sale last week, and they've been burning a hole in the back of my produce drawer ever since, just waiting for an opportunity like this to make their big debut. I love radishes. I ate so many of them over the course of this demonstration.

While in a traditional potato salad I think you're supposed to mix up the nasty, cum-stain dressing beforehand and work it into the potatoes after the fact, we're going to do something a little bit different; our lipid here, as you can see, is olive oil, and together with the ground mustard it will emulsify if whisked briskly beforehand instead. This will achieve our desired consistency and flavor profile while also preventing the seasonings from coming together non-homogenously. Making sure everything is evenly distributed in the bowl prior to stirring in the main body of the potato salad will also help you avoid falling victim to the classic problem of your spuds becoming too greasy in all the wrong ways. We want this thing to feel luxurious and decadent, not like the bottom of a Carl's Jr. bag.

Once your tubers are soft enough to squash easily with a fork, get them in immediately - the heat will bring everything together in divine harmony. Combine forcefully and with great prejudice and give it a few moments to rest afterward before moving on; crack open a book or something, don't just hover over the bowl like a hungry dog.

Once the entire situation has cooled down to room temperature, toss in the stalks, radish, and scallions. Turn everything over once or twice with your silly pink spatula, just enough to incorporate the fresh ingredients without mashing the potatoes entirely.

I can honestly say without exaggeration or hyperbole that this is, hands-down, the best potato salad I've ever eaten in my life. Subtly sweet while somehow also outrageously zesty, this is one selection that will most certainly be making its way into my regular rotation of the party-sized offerings I bring to the vegan potlucks I am sometimes able to attend via Meetup, the only social media platform I've ever found that allows me to connect with people in my community who are as pathetic and lonely as me. I love the internet. It gets me out of the house.

This stuff will keep in your fridge for a good three days, or so I assume; it rarely makes it past the following morning around these parts. If you're looking to shake things up around the office or give your next romantic beachside picnic a casual, quirky slant for a change, I highly recommend giving this one a shot. You've got nothing to lose but your good reputation.