A pointless story: my manager at the restaurant I work at was talking about wine, and he said to me, "Don't judge me for drinking rose." And I had to laugh to myself, because honestly, I know nothing about nothing, and I know especially nothing about wine, least of all rose, which I only know I like because it is pink, and I like basically everything that is pink.
There is one thing that I know though.
I know that I want to give you the truest thank you.
How do you say the truest thank you?
At the restaurant I work at they make these ridiculously divine looking deviled eggs with truffle oil whipped into the yolk part, but I've never actually gotten to eat one. Which just kills me.
I spend a lot of time thinking about those eggs.
I actually made some deviled eggs the other day because I had such a craving, but the pictures I took of them were so decidedly unfortunate that I painted a picture of them instead.
Beloveds, if I could, I would give you all the truffled deviled eggs of the world. But I can't. Because I don't know who you are.
So I say you make them yourself. And you can pretend that they're from me, a symbol of my truest thank you.
I'm going to say it one more time.
Thank you.
xoxo
Deviled Eggs
Gourmet 2002, via epicurious.com
Also, I have a THING for mustard, so I added more of it. A lot more. Also, I didn't really even follow the recipe. I just guesstimated the proportions. But I love you a lot. So I'm telling you, follow the recipe. If you want. You can also add truffle oil, if you have it and are feeling decadent. In fact, you can do whatever you want.
There is one thing that I know though.
I know that I want to give you the truest thank you.
How do you say the truest thank you?
This is a question that has been puzzling me for a while.
Because you are so kind, and somehow you keep returning and reading about my pies and my dinners and my issues and my delights.
I don't even have the words.
If I knew who you were, I would give a present. This present would be wrapped in the comics section of the newspaper, and tied with some kind of satiny ribbon. Because I believe in attractive presents. Though I actually give them mostly infrequently.
I spend a lot of time thinking about those eggs.
I actually made some deviled eggs the other day because I had such a craving, but the pictures I took of them were so decidedly unfortunate that I painted a picture of them instead.
Beloveds, if I could, I would give you all the truffled deviled eggs of the world. But I can't. Because I don't know who you are.
So I say you make them yourself. And you can pretend that they're from me, a symbol of my truest thank you.
I'm going to say it one more time.
Thank you.
xoxo
Deviled Eggs
Gourmet 2002, via epicurious.com
Also, I have a THING for mustard, so I added more of it. A lot more. Also, I didn't really even follow the recipe. I just guesstimated the proportions. But I love you a lot. So I'm telling you, follow the recipe. If you want. You can also add truffle oil, if you have it and are feeling decadent. In fact, you can do whatever you want.
- 6 large eggs
- 1/4 cup mayonnaise
- 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
- 1/8 teaspoon cayenne
- Special equipment: a pastry bag fitted with 1/2-inch star tip (optional) <--- Totally did not do this
- Garnishes: paprika; chopped fresh chives; whatever strikes your fancy
Cover eggs with cold water by 1 1/2 inches in a 3-quart heavy saucepan and bring to a rolling boil, partially covered. Reduce heat to low and cook eggs, covered completely, 30 seconds. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, 15 minutes. Transfer eggs with a slotted spoon to a bowl of ice and cold water to stop cooking and let stand 5 minutes.
Peel eggs and halve lengthwise. Carefully remove yolks and mash in a bowl with a fork. Add mayonnaise, mustard, and cayenne and stir with fork until smooth, then season with salt and pepper. Fill pastry bag with yolk mixture and pipe into egg whites.
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