oh, but the sauce



call it what you will. vinaigrette, dressing, potion, emulsion, even the far fetched demulcent, or worse the very emollient lubricant, once you get to potato salad, as everybody knows, anything goes.
so, a well musseled mayonaise for example, as yesterdays was, only outdone tonight by this concoction. potatoes, cooked, al dente, coarsely sliced while hot, skin on. bathed for two hours, as before, in olive oil. zingiber myoga, now grown locally, yes, near portland,  on hand at a price at uwajimaya. 
in the cuisine art: myoga, tarragon, the tub-oil from those taters, dijon mustard, a splash of sherry vinegar. do a pulse or two and the sauce slurries the spuds, as if that weren't bad enough, on top of that heap goes the roe of the sea urchin, corals, that seductive uni, to some an aphrodisiac, to others way much too personal.



it's dinner tonight. rapturously ardent amatory? well, we'll see, later, won't we?