Salad Days

Nothing says summer like potato salad. When the weather turns reliably hot I find myself craving its creamy and crunchy pleasures. It’s only a matter of time before I boil and chop enough for a great big bowlful.

Of course, they do make potato salad in the kibbutz. But just between us, it’s pretty awful. No onions, no celery. Instead, they add canned peas and carrots. Ghastly. In fact, there are a number of classic dishes they get horribly wrong: artichokes with mayonnaise instead of garlic butter, potato soup made with chicken soup powder instead of leeks and cream, roast beef that has been boiled until you can mash it with a fork.

You get the picture. I find myself wondering how kibbutz cuisine took this left turn into dreadful. The pioneering generation came from countries with rich culinary traditions – Germany, Hungary, Russia to name a few. So what happened? Did the Old Countries forbid cooks to emigrate? Did you only go to the kibbutz movement if you lacked the cooking gene?

I have a feeling this will remain a mystery. If you try to ask people they get all defensive – “What’s wrong with the food? It’s wonderful food! Be grateful you have something to eat!” – so I‘m not going there. Tonight I will be welcoming summer with my traditional steak and potato salad feast, convinced it will be delicious. The rest of my comrades don’t know what they’re missing.