We had a potluck at work yesterday. I made what they always want me to make, so no big deal. But I was very surprised to see Waldorf Salad on the table, brought in my boss. I was so surprised that I stopped listening to the story being told to me, unrelated. I just sort of stared at this bowl of salad, then ran and grabbed my camera. My dad would make this salad every year of my recollected life for Thanksgiving. We called it "Clemmie Salad" which is what HIS mom began calling it because of how much it was liked by him back in the day. It was this salad that I didn't even like that much, but always ate because it was Clemmie Salad. I mean, how can you take a pass on that? It's a tradition that I think is over, which is so hard to type. As we got older, he always wanted help making it, and especially seeding the grapes. When he found purple seedless grapes, it made him so pleased to be saved such a high maintenance step. But it was his to make, and I can't imagine letting anyone else make it without him here.
This version today, wasn't EXACTLY the same as my Granny and my dad, which made me feel a bit better about eating it at lunch. I carry him always but he pops up in the most surprising places.....
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