Olivier (олів'є, potato-and-pea salad)

A winter table can be loud without being hot. Olivier arrives cold, squared off into tiny dice, green peas flashing through the pale mayonnaise, pickles cutting through the richness, the whole bowl disappearing faster than anyone admits. This is the New Year king, even when everyone pretends they only want one spoonful.

The whole dish depends on the cut. Dice everything small enough that potato, carrot, egg, pickle, and pea arrive together on the spoon, but not so fine that the salad turns to paste. Aunt Nadia wrote only "cut neatly, don't be lazy," which is rude and correct. The mayonnaise binds; it should not drown. You want a salad that holds its shape when spooned, then loosens in the mouth.

Use chicken, ham, or good cooked kovbasa if that's your table. Leave the meat out and add more egg if that's your life. The tradition survives because every family adjusts the bowl and still knows exactly what it is.