If you grew up in the baby boom era like me, this is the type of potato salad you may remember fondly. (Or not.) In my hometown, this very recipe was served at church picnics next to a platter of fried chicken, and one could always expect a scoop of it snuggled next to the grilled cheese sandwich at the counter bar at Gilchrist Drug Store.
If memory serves, in Ann Arbor, Mr. Tibbles may have sold something similar at the now-defunct Drake’s. Some of you may remember that inimitable candy, tea and sandwich shop — a true relic from the ’50s — which faced the Diag. (I recall Mr. Tibbles in 1977 giving me and my roommate a basement tour of Drake’s. The walls were lined — top to bottom — in a rainbow of assorted candies. At long last the Promised Land… Candyland Nirvana!)
My mom made this salad and added a half-cup of finely chopped bacon. It was a tragedy that I forgot to pick some up at the store. Say what you will about this potato salad. But I protect its integrity fiercely, eating it with relish and a sigh of pleasure only memories and ghosts are privy to hear.