Let’s face it, if we are currently just trying to survive through 2026, a year that gets crazier every damn day, you may want to be growing your own lettuce at home. Because in 2026, we simply can’t ha
ve nice leafy green things like green leaf lettuce or, heavens, even iceberg. I mean, according to the CDC, lettuce and other cruciferous vegetables are the latest thing you just have to ignore, even if you are craving a Curried Chicken Salad, like I do every single day. And that right there, folks, is why I grow my own lettuces at home and in my community garden for this crispy smashed potato salad and all my other summertime veggie needs. Because when it comes to red leaf lettuce, you just can’t trust the government anymore.
Lettuce Be Honest: Your Garden Does It Better
Well, besides having a garden full of red leaves, green leaves, spinach and arugula, I have a garden full of fat and fluffy Norwegian Forest Cats and Adrenaline Junco’s. The Junco is a tiny sparrow from Oregon. With the virtual wasteland that Portland has become, I can see why they have flown south, but let me tell you, California is not much better. Have you seen what Gavin Newsom has done to this once glorious Golden State?
Anywho, we have a flock of Junco’s who have made our yard home this early summer. Which sounds idyllic for a songbird just trying to get away from ANTIFA, open drug consumption and mental illness galore, but this has turned into not the best backyard to be a New World Sparrow because of this silly furry twenty-five-pound forest cat. Yes, Leo is now allowed to roam the backyard. I think, like anyone who is escaping the Pacific Northwest, these songbirds have made some strange life choices.
With this cabin full of rescue pets, a fridge full of homemade salad dressings, and a mind chock full of sarcasm about this world we live in here in 2026, I often feel like Jenn Lancaster meets Anthony Bourdain in a ski town. I mean if either of those guys were obsessed with hiking and race horses.
The Lettuce Is Free… After You Spend $400 on Gardening Supplies
This summertime season, this outdoor lifestyle bloggess and culinary creator is using as many fresh veggies from our community garden as possible in all recipes. The gardens may not be quite out of control quite yet, but yes, we do have about twenty potato plants in the potato garden, so that means potato salad galore all summer long! I know, I know, that is an obsessive amount of potatoes!
I use so many fresh garden-grown local veggies in this Community Garden Crispy Potato Salad as I can. And let’s face it, in a world where leafy greens can have you ready to bust a gasket, don’t you want to grow as many veggies at home as you can? This Fluffy Forest Feline agrees with me.
Community Garden Crispy Smashed Potato Salad for People Who Like Their Carbs With Crunch
1/2 a pound of small Dutch potatoes, boiled for 20 minutes
4 teaspoons olive oil
1 teaspoon of paprika
1/4 cup mayonnaise
Juice of half a lemon
1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
1 teaspoon sea salt
3 teaspoons of Greek yogurt
3 celery stalks, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh organic dill, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh organic parsley, chopped
2 green onions, chopped
For this crispy smashed potato salad, firstly, preheat your oven to 400. Yes, you must use your oven in July for this crispy smashed potato salad recipe. Please, please don’t hate me. When your oven is preheated and your house feels like a sauna, put those potatoes on a baking sheet and smash them with something like a bowl or a glass. Smother them in the olive oil and season with salt, paprika and pepper. Roast for 225 minutes. Flip them and roast for another 25 minutes.
While the potatoes for your crispy smashed potato salad are roasting, chop all your veggies and herbs for the crispy smashed potato salad and mix in your mayo, Greek yogurt, lemon and zest, and the rest of the salt and pepper. When your potatoes are toasted and I mean crispy toasted, let the potatoes sit for ten minutes to just cool a bit and then mix them into the sauce and veggies. Serve this potato salad warm.





