BLT salad
Keep it simple or make it the whole meal.
As tempted as I was to whip up a half-baked Alaska for today’s Putin-Trump authoritarian cuddlefest, instead I disappeared into a happy cloud of nostalgia for childhood summertime treats, which inspired today’s recipe.
My mom would pick me up from swim team (yup, I lived a suburban idyll), and, still in my green-and-white striped bathing suit, the one that left my torso half-tan/half pale white by the end of the summer, we’d head to Towne Deli in New Providence, New Jersey, for sandwiches. My mom, a freelance writer and editor, worked at home, so sandwiches from the deli were a nice lunch break for her and a good foundation for my busy afternoon reading Nancy Drew mysteries.
The Towne Deli still sits across from the train station and has fed generations of locals. Everybody eats there. At lunchtime the line still stretches to the door with a combination of local house painters and landscapers to preppy moms in tennis skirts who look like their favorite meal is the olives in their martinis. The deli is famous for its sloppy joes, which in this part of Jerz is not ground beef with Manwich sauce, but layers of ham, coleslaw, Swiss cheese, and Russian dressing on rye bread. For my mom and me, though, the sandwich of choice was the BLT on toast. Thinking about that sandwich, packed with two inches of bacon (extra crisp for my mother) and the requisite L, T, and mayonnaise, it’s all I can do not to speed there now and get one.
Undoubtedly it would be delicious, but somehow it wouldn’t taste the same, not without having spent a morning in the pool, my bathing suit still damp, and the smell of my mother’s Youth Dew perfume.
Before I get too teary-eyed, I have to remind myself of the other summer stalwart at the Rothkopf house: bologna salad. Say it with me: bologna salad. My dad loved it. Chunks of bologna, slices of red onion and tomatoes, tossed with Wishbone Italian dressing and served on a decorative piece of iceberg lettuce. Sure, we didn’t have a/c, it was stinking hot, and who wanted to turn on the oven. I get it. I would pick out onions and hope Dairy Queen was on offer after dinner.
Lucky for you, today’s recipe is inspired by my need for a BLT. I went full-blown nostalgia and turned it into a pasta salad with a mayonnaise dressing made extra-tasty (and extra 1980s) with sun-dried tomatoes.
The lovely readers of my Secret Life of Cookies Substack also revealed a need for the comfort of memory and responded in large numbers with their favorite summertime treats from childhood. Freshly picked Iowa corn, station wagon rides with the neighborhood kids to DQ for a chocolate-dipped cone, bushels of blue crabs, and grandma’s homegrown tomatoes were mentioned. What is on your list? Please share in the comments.
BLT Salad Notes and Tweaks:
Keep it simple, or make it more of a meal with the addition of a shredded rotisserie chicken.
Choose a short pasta shape, such as gemelli, fusilli, or ziti, or go retro with some shells or wagon wheels (aka rotelle).
I urge you to use a good mayo such as Hellman’s/Best Foods or Duke’s.
Like a little heat (in your food)? Add a generous pinch of ancho chile powder to the dressing.
Hate mayonnaise? Pesto is a nice alternative.
Add herbs to the dressing, including basil, tarragon, and parsley. Cooked corn is also a great addition, as is grated Parmesan cheese.
Yes, if you blended a ripe avocado into the dressing it would make it even better. Add 2 tablespoons of lemon juice as well to balance the flavors.
This recipe is easily divided or multiplied.
Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato Pasta Salad
Serves 4 as a main course, 8 as a side
What You’ll Need
For the dressing:
1/2 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons sun-dried tomatoes in oil, chopped
1 clove garlic peeled and smashed
1/4 cup fresh parsley
salt and pepper to taste
For the salad:
16 ounces pasta (see suggestions in notes)
12 ounces smoked bacon
2 cups (10 ounces) cherry or grape tomatoes, sliced in half
2 cups packed (3 ounces) baby spinach, chopped
What You’ll Do:
Make the dressing: Blend all the dressing ingredients in a blender until almost smooth. Alternatively, spare yourself dirtying one more thing and dice up the sun-dried tomatoes, garlic and parsley and stir into the mayonnaise with the lemon zest, salt and pepper. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
Cook the pasta according to package directions. It should be al dente. Drain and rinse under cold water for 15 seconds, then transfer to a large bowl.
Meanwhile, cook the bacon until crisp but not brittle. Drain on paper towels. When cool enough to handle, chop into 1-inch (5 cm) pieces.
If serving immediately: Add the bacon, tomatoes and spinach to the pasta and toss with the dressing.
If serving within 8 hours: Add the tomatoes and spinach to the pasta and toss with three-quarters of the dressing. Save the bacon and the remaining dressing to toss with the pasta just before serving. (You may want to crisp up the bacon with a 30-second blast in the microwave or in a hot pan before adding to the pasta.)
What is your favorite summer food memory? Or if there was a dreaded bologna salad in your life, what was it?
Marissa Rothkopf Bates writes about food for the New York Times, Newsweek (RIP) and Publishers’ Weekly among others. Her newest book, “The Secret Life of Chocolate Chip Cookies,” is available for pre-sale wherever fine books are sold. Find her on Substack here.








Can't make this in California. If I ran water over pasta and down the drain for 15 minutes, I'd be under arrest ;) But I'm sure there are less extravagant ways to cool and rinse the pasta.
The most perfect summer treat I remember was when I was about 3 or 4. It was an ice cream called Pink Mint, that we got in cones from a little shop in Kensington, MD, near where the train came in each evening. On rather few, precious summer evenings, just after Daddy got home from work in DC, we would go to see the evening train come in, and get our Pink Mint cones. I later made a recipe from an old Joy of Cooking - soak those white mints with red-stripes around the rim and make ice cream with the soaking milk or cream - and when I tasted it, it was the exact same flavor. Which I had not planned or expected. Talk about nostalgia!
I happened to be rapturously eating a BLT when I opened this - reveling in our small DC court win for the DC police - and reminiscing about one of the few saving graces of Middletown Ohio where I spent a few summers --the silver queen corn, beefsteak tomatoes, and cantalopes at the farm stands