Some Recipes Never Leave the Table

Paul James "PJ" Metzger Sr. & Minette "Munchy"

I've learned that memories rarely come back all at once. They arrive in pieces. Sometimes it's a familiar smell. Sometimes it's hearing an old song. And sometimes, it's something as simple as seeing a bowl of potato salad sitting next to a platter of food at a family barbecue.

In an instant, I'm no longer standing in my backyard. I'm back on summer vacation, traveling with my family, visiting relatives, laughing around picnic tables, and watching my grandparents do what they do best: bring people together.

Growing up, I thought the potato salad was just another side dish. Today, I know it was something much bigger. Some recipes become part of a family's identity. They quietly outlive the people who created them, carrying their stories, traditions, and love from one generation to the next. 

For my family, that recipe has always been my grandmother Minette's potato salad. She was known in our family as "Munchy," and if there was a barbecue, holiday gathering, potluck, or summer vacation, chances were her potato salad was on the table. It wasn't the kind of recipe that demanded attention. It simply belonged there.

My grandfather, Paul James "PJ" Metzger Sr., was a butcher and grocery store owner in St. Louis. He's credited with helping popularize the famous St. Louis pork steak, cutting thick slices from the Boston butt that could be grilled, smoked, baked, or fried. Wherever those pork steaks went, my grandmother's potato salad wasn't far behind.

The two became part of the same tradition. As kids, we didn't think about recipes becoming family heirlooms. We just knew that every summer, we'd pack into our RV and head north from Fort Lauderdale to visit family and friends. Those trips usually lasted a couple of weeks, and there was always enough food for everyone.

Large coolers filled with meat. Someone is tending the grill. The family gathered outside. And somewhere in the kitchen, my mom or one of my sisters was making Grandma's potato salad.

Back then, it was simply what we ate. Today, I realize it was also how we stayed connected.

As the years passed, life changed. My grandparents passed away. My dad passed away. Many of the relatives who filled those gatherings are no longer here. Without realizing it, the responsibility shifted to my generation.

We're now the ones making the recipes, hosting the gatherings, and keeping those traditions alive for the people who come after us. That's one of the reasons I make this recipe as close to my grandmother's original version as possible.

I don't peel the potatoes, not only because it saves time, but because I like keeping a little more of what nature gave them. One family secret that has always stayed with me is drizzling a small amount of hot bacon grease over the diced potatoes and onions before mixing everything together. It's a simple step that gives the salad a flavor I still associate with childhood.

Steps

Over the years, I've also learned a few lessons. Don't overcook the potatoes. Don't overdo the bacon grease. And don't assume every grocery store carries Derkee's Famous Sauce. More than once, I've had to make my own version from scratch.

Those little adjustments don't change the heart of the recipe. They remind me that cooking, like life, requires a little flexibility.

There are countless versions of potato salad. Some have mustard. Some have eggs. Some are sweet. Some are creamy. I'm sure every family believes theirs is the best. I know ours does. Not because it's perfect. But because every bite carries a memory.

That's what food has always done for me. It isn't just about what's on the plate. It's about the people who gathered around it. The conversations. The laughter. The traditions that quietly pass from one generation to the next.

Some recipes feed a family for one afternoon. Others continue feeding memories long after the meal is over. I hope this recipe reminds you of someone special in your own life. Maybe it's a grandmother. Maybe it's a parent. It could be a family tradition that's been waiting to be made again.

Because sometimes the most meaningful thing we can pass down isn't money or possessions. It's simply a recipe that brings everyone back to the same table. That's why this recipe will always have a place in my family. And that's why it has a place here at Only One Life.

The Recipe