Tomato-Cucumber Salad with Dill

When a Ukrainian person refers to "salad," 9 times out of 10 they're talking about the combination of cucumbers, tomatoes, onion and dill. This salad is such a staple, we barely even notice when it's on the table, as it has the tendency to almost blur into the background; and yet when it isn't there, the meal doesn't feel quite complete.

I was born in the southern Ukrainian city of Odessa and lived there until we immigrated to the States when I was 9. Known as "the pearl by the sea," Odessa is equal parts historical metropolitan city and beach town.

When I look back on my childhood summers, I remember hot days of splashing in the sea with my sister, and being covered in sand for pretty much three months straight. I remember daily trips to the corner store with my friends to buy milky "plombir" ice cream. I remember teeny-tiny strawberries that were so good, it was as if the whole universe had conspired in their creation, as well as bright yellow corn that tasted like the earth. And of course, I remember this juicy, herby, tomato-cucumber salad.

Back then, now going on 22 years ago, we ate locally and seasonally by default. We didn't have the vaguest concern about the distance that produce traveled to get to us, the word "organic," or anything remotely similar. My parents just bought what was available at the open-air bazaar each weekend, which meant that tomatoes and cucumbers were true summer delicacies. (My mom also pickled them for the winters.)

This salad was one of the most delicious, and certainly one of the simplest things we'd have all season. The salad would accompany any and every meal, and on extra-hot days, it could be a meal on its own. The classic accompaniment is rye bread (aka "black bread"). The high point of the salad's journey? Dipping the dense, caraway-scented bread into the bottom of the empty salad bowl to soak up the salty tomato juices.

This salad is such a simple concept that it feels almost silly to write about; most of the recipe is in the recipe title after all. But ever since Russia's invasion of Ukraine, I feel more compelled than ever to bring our traditions to light and memorialize our culture.

These days, living here in Brooklyn, where I feel luckier than ever to be, we can have tomato-cucumber salad anytime, thanks to affordable and widely available imported produce. The vegetables we have year-round, however, are mostly tasteless; yet nonetheless, the salad persists. Whenever I go over to my parents' house for dinner, it's always part of the meal. (After two decades in the States, their feelings toward lettuce-based American salads are lukewarm at best.)

In fact, even when there's no time or need to make a whole salad, you'd struggle to find a Ukrainian person who doesn't love a sliced cucumber and/or tomato on the side of basically any meal. It's like an accessory we just can't live without.

Although nothing compares to the produce of my childhood memories, summertime tomatoes and cucumbers bought locally at a farmers' market or farm stand do come close. Since this salad is so minimal, I highly recommend seeking out the good seasonal stuff for it, even if it does cost a few extra bucks. After all, we all know that great ingredients require little effort to shine.