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It's All About the PlateFinalist -- Margaret Anne Mitchell,
Jackson MS
To many who may be reading this deviled eggs are something that are associated with church picnics, bridal showers, and the occasional picnic lunch taken in a rest stop or park during a stopover on a long drive. But for me, deviled eggs represent Easter. More so than palms, crosses, Chris Owens parading through the Quarter in a ridiculously large hat, or men lining up outside Galitoire's wearing their seersucker and white bucks for the first time since the previous September. Every Easter that I can remember up to the one just past, those eggs that the children spent all morning long hiding and finding were, sometime after the leftover lunch had been put away and the good dishes had been washed and dried, turned into one of the most sublime uses that the egg has to offer, the deviled egg. The children's baskets would be collected and the eggs would be separated from the headless chocolate bunnies, the Elmer's Gold Bricks, and the paper grass. Once this had been accomplished the eggs were quickly shelled and sliced in half, scooping out the yolks as the process went along. The yolks would then be mixed with some Blue Plate mayonnaise, a little bit of yellow mustard, finely chopped pimiento, a tiny bit of dill pickle juice, and a good whack of Tabasco. This entire mixture would be stirred until smooth and then placed spoon by spoon back into the whites (which in fact, weren't so white thanks to the Easter Bunny and his dying process). The filled eggs would be placed on a dish made especially for them, a ceramic platter known as a deviled egg dish that had little indentations all round and held the slippery treats in place (I think that most of the people who got married in the South before 1980 got one of those things as a wedding present). The remaining eggs were put on a dinner plate and both platters were placed in the refrigerator to greet the napping guests when they finally started moving around after a long, post lunch snooze. Rarely, no matter the number made, did any of these eggs make it past bedtime. Refrigerator grazers, ham sandwich makers, and kids of all ages just kind of wiped them out. Everybody loves a good egg and while there are many fine uses for them in many cuisines from all over the world, it is really hard to do much better than a well made deviled egg. Mrs. Oliver's Deviled Eggs
For holidays and family get-togethers, "egg duty" has been my responsibility. Each time I prepared the 30 egg halves on assorted trays, I prayed they would reach my sister's house intact. Once my eldest son sat on the egg tray during the 17-mile trip; my younger son tossed a video game bag atop the eggs. I have fought dark rings around the yolks, too-soft yolks and eggs that refuse to peel! I've tried removing the shells at room temperature, after refrigeration, and even reheating to allow removal - none of which seems to be the right method. My husband tried bribing my niece to assume "egg duty"; she declined! The recipe evolved from my late grandmother, Cathleen Boles, and my mother, Barbara Payne.
This could be it. My big chance to shine. After almost five decades of watching
my crown-encrusted friends like Donna Hild Russell of Madison and my cousins
Miriam and Pam wave to their adoring admirers from the pageant catwalk, I now
have my big Last week, I received an invitation from the Center for Southern Culture at Ole Miss to submit my best recipe and accompanying short story for deviled eggs. It would be entered in a contest that’s part of the Southern Foodways Symposium in October and the winner – get this! – will be crowned Queen (or King) of the Deviled Egg in an egg tasting and champagne coronation ceremony on the Square in Oxford. Move over Jill Conner Browne. Sweet potatoes are so yesterday. The egg is my royal destiny.
Just between us, I am a relative newcomer to the concoction of the deviled
egg. It was an afterthought dish when I was growing up in Laurel, but when
I married into the Delta it moved into a tradition-heavy place of prominence
for every single Brandon family I am now, to my great glee and respectful humbleness, the owner of that dish. And I know from the tips of my toes to the top of my soon-to-be-awarded rhinestone topper that she’s looking down from above guiding me in this venture. At least, I’m willing to bet my collection of 27 deviled egg plates (in various shapes, sizes, ages, colors and materials) that she’s at least wishing me a good shot at it. I settled into the corner of our home office this past weekend and delved
into the volumes of cookbooks stored on the shelves there. Nothing quite compared
to the how-to lesson I got from Maxine, standing in her tiny Clarksdale kitchen
one Christmas holiday weekend. Of course, she didn’t have a written recipe
card to give me. But I took I also got a kick out of the cookbook’s serving suggestions. Not a single one mentioned an egg plate. Girls, we all know that things like Italian parsley, lettuce, or arugula will never substitute for a plate encircled by perfectly matched oval indentions. Anything else is, well, tacky. And we all know what we think about tacky. Here’s my last hope, with well wishes from my dear, sweet Maxine.
ALWAYS: Make a second plateful just like the first and place at the front
of the refrigerator for snoopy, can’t-wait-until-dinner’s ready
tasters. If not, there’ll be nothing left for the real meal. (My secret
that I've only shared with those I love: I always boil two This past weekend, I tried a little experimentation of my own. To the “perfect” recipe I inherited from Maxine and that now faithfully appears at every single Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Ole Miss Rebels football tailgating affair, I humbly suggest adding: finely chopped green onion, finely chopped green olives, finely chopped shrimp and a sprinkle of dill weed. Top with a small shrimp and a twig of dill. Not bad. It's just that nothing will ever compare to the best. Gotta run now. Time to work on my “egg-ceptance” speech. My mother had the most beautiful glass deviled egg plate. To me, it looked For our eighth wedding anniversary, mom sent Jim and me our very own egg plate. It's white with room for two dozen deviled eggs. It's lovely, but it doesn't hold a candle to the one she used. Jim doesn't quite understand the need for a plate that's only good for one thing, but he does enjoy what it holds--made just the way my mother did. Nancy Anne's Deviled Eggs
Years ago someone at my annual New Year's party said that all Southern women This is a recipe adapted from the one my mother always used. I cannot
If you want to make easy, delicious deviled eggs, my mother-in-law’s recipe is for you. Louise Foretich was well known for her good, down-home cooking. My family and friends have always loved her deviled eggs; and in my working years, when we had company dinners, all the employees would insist that I arrive with one of my wonderful deviled egg plates loaded with the eggs.
P.S. Right before leaving on vacation, I e-mailed a recipe to you. I just made it according to these directions, and find that over the years I had changed it with less mayo and more mustard and vinegar. While making bigger batches, I had guessed and tasted along the way. So what I sent is not really good. Oh dear, I'm sorry. First, the good news: your recent request inspired me to write down some thoughts on deviled eggs because they are a long time favorite of mine. Next, the bad news: the resulting text is probably 5-7 time longer than you want.
Subjects that are not covered below include how to boil, peel and smoke eggs.
The
Good fresh eggs were very seasonal as late as 1900, when eggs were plentiful
in
I remember that eggs were cheap after the end of WW II. Deviled eggs were
very During the early 1960's, I was recently married and looked in the major cookbooks of the time to find a recipe for deviled eggs. There were far too many options, such as using melted butter, dressing, etc., instead of mayonnaise or prepared mustard, catsup, etc., instead of mustard powder, and cheese, olives, etc., instead of pickle relish.
Moreover, quantities of ingredients were not given. With some effort we developed
our new recipe so it matched the flavor we remembered. This recipe is certainly
very close to the earlier recipes. Most of the time we still use this recipe
today and when deviled By the late 1970's, I had a smoker and had started using more chile peppers in my cooking. This led to experiments with smoked, boiled eggs and eventually to very deviled eggs, using the recipe below. I only use this recipe occasionally with friends who like spice-hot foods.
What can be said about stuffed eggs? First of all, whoever heard of a family gathering, a picnic, or church potluck dinner without them? From my earliest memory of family dinners at my grandmother’s table on a farm in Northeast Mississippi, stuffed eggs were a favorite. I do not have a copy of her recipe, and I don’t recall it being anything particularly unusual. Probably nothing more than the yolk, mayonnaise, salt and pepper, a dash of dry mustard, and maybe pickle relish of some kind. Yard eggs were plentiful, but a sprinkling of paprika was not anything she would have had on hand. I don’t really think the recipe was that important. To me, the important part was that Mamma took the time to lovingly make them along with many other favorites for special family dinners. As a child she would let me help stuff the yolk back into the egg white. It was always a challenge to get the yellow stuffing to come out even with the egg whites. Could it be my “taste-testing” had something to do with always having a leftover egg white? But how could you “salt and pepper to taste” without taking a few good licks? Another thing I have noticed about stuffed eggs is how they are usually all eaten. I don’t care how many stuffed eggs show up at the potluck, every deviled egg dish is taken home clean. That should tell us something! Only on one occasion can I remember having any leftovers and that was once when I tried a new recipe for stuffed eggs containing anchovies. I should have known better, but being a fan of both stuffed eggs and anchovies, I thought I would give it a try. Even I, who eat anything and everything, did not care for this combination. So I may be the only person in history with the distinction of having leftover stuffed eggs. How embarrassing is that? Speaking of deviled egg dishes that brings up another issue. My family never had a deviled egg dish until maybe in the ‘60’s when Tupperware came out with their version. Before that the eggs were served in a pie plate and, for church suppers, covered in wax paper for the car ride. Another job I had was holding the stuffed egg plate level to keep the eggs from sliding out. Oh, how tempting to sneak one out, but the empty spot would have quickly been spotted. My current favorite recipe came to me from my friend Beth Imes. If she sends it in, give her credit. She didn’t really give me a recipe, but told me that she adds capers to her stuffed eggs. I tried it, and, yes, it is tasty and easier than chopping a pickle. So here is my recipe with Beth’s capers.
I remember the simple joy as a child growing up in Dallas. I would stumble into the kitchen after playing with my two brothers, only to find that on that heavenly platter cut to fit the curves of the egg lay a Mama’s own deviled eggs. Her recipe included a liberal amount of Miracle whip, yella mustard, pickle relish, and a generous topping of paprika. Mama always used to tell us the story of her Home Economics Teacher at the University of Texas, Miss Harris, who said to put paprika on absolutely everything. Now, the plate that holds the deviled eggs is almost as important as the eggs themselves. Mama used to say that every southern woman has a deviled egg plate. Hers was given to her by her mother, Evelyn. It has 16 places for eggs and it’s yellow with a chicken in the middle. I ate off that plate as a child, and my daughter, Evelyn, has eaten those delicious deviled eggs off of it as well. My cousin, Evelyn, my mother’s sister’s daughter (to make it more confusing), has spent many a holiday at our house eating deviled eggs as well. In fact, on those Easter holidays when we would all get together my Mama (every southern woman also calls her mother mama) would do a special treat of soaking the white part of the egg in beet juice which would turn the eggs a special Easter-y purplish-pink and when you added the yellow filling it made colors that my mind will always associate with that holiday. Deviled eggs are just something that I was raised on, my Mama was raised on, and my girls were raised on too. Being a Texas girl I was always told the story of how my grandmother Evelyn would take her deviled eggs on trips from the oil country of Oklahoma to the oil fields of East Texas because the eggs would keep in the car; a car that had a air conditioner that they would put a block of ice in so it spit water at you as you drove. I hope that one day I’ll inherit that old deviled egg platter so that my girls can have Mama’s deviled eggs for their children on it. A southern cook doesn’t use exact proportions- she merely uses what she thinks should go in with a lot of taste testing—to get it just like Mama’s.
On the seventh day, just before the well-deserved rest, God said, “Let there be deviled eggs.” And there were. For as long as there have been chickens, there have been eggs. Since folks have learned to make fire and boil water, there have been boiled eggs. When did the first deviled eggs appear? Perhaps cave people made them with sorrel leaves and mashed berries. We join our ancestors when we eat this delicacy. We eat them at picnics, church suppers, fancy cocktail parties and school cafeterias. We eat them plain with the egg yolks mixed with just a dab of mustard and fancy with everything from truffles to caviar. We plop the egg yolk mixture into the waiting white and carefully pipe the filling into its home. We serve them on paper plates and on those specially crafted plates with indentions to tenderly cradle each treasured half. We eat them with no serving dish at all, simply fingers and a waiting mouth. We eat them like peanuts, not counting how many until they are all gone. They are one of the first items to disappear from any buffet. Some families, I’m not saying which ones, have been known to have nose-perching deviled egg contests.
As a preacher’s kid, I’ve seen and sampled my share of dinner-on-the-grounds, church picnics, potluck suppers, and funeral fare. So I speak with a measure of authority concerning what-to-take to ecclesiastical culinary events. Nothing is more satisfying than to see the bountiful serving tables groaning with an array of food just before the blessing is pronounced. And nothing is more humiliating than to find MY dish virtually untouched after the meal is over. (Our church kitchen committee has been known to remove contents of an unpopular dish so the cook won’t be embarrassed.) One surefire way to avoid such a dilemma is to take stuffed eggs (“deviled” eggs seem somewhat out of place among the pious) to the meal. However, a few rules regarding stuffed eggs are invaluable. Stuffed eggs must look tempting. Sprigs of parsley, slices of olives, or a dash of paprika add eye appeal. Presentation must look tantalizing. Don’t display the eggs on any old plate. Use an EGG plate. My assortment includes an antique cranberry glass one passed down from my grandmother, Mama Too. Husband Don brought home a wooden one from Haiti when he helped build a Methodist School there. Another favorite egg plate, English bone china, which belonged to a prominent Water Valley matron. I bought it at a yard sale. Stuffed eggs must be tasty. Hand-me-down recipes don’t have specific amounts---just ingredients. Taste adjustments are a must!
Nothing is more affirming than to hear someone ask, “Did Lucia bring HER eggs?” I have had many deviled eggs. Funny, PAAS dyed ones on Easter Sunday, festively paprika flecked ones on the Fourth of July, and unmemorable types at the odd ladies luncheon. And no offense to the matriarchs in my family, but like most things these days, I like my way the best. One grandmother’s store-bought mayonnaise produces a dry offense and the other’s use of curry powder only takes away from the rich yolky goodness. A few Easters ago I was feeling frisky and piped the yolks with a _ inch star pastry tip; hit the whole platter with a generous bam! of paprika, and well that was just plain tacky. Thankfully, I was in California. These days, I like ‘em straight up (chased with a spicy Bloody Mary, extra dilly beans on the side, please!). All I need is the basics, a compilation of both grandmothers’ recipes: fresh eggs, homemade mayonnaise, mustard, salt, some member of the onion family, and I am good to go. Unfortunately, at present, I serve my deviled eggs on a plain white Ironstone platter which forces fingers into a devilish little game of “catch the egg” as they slip and slide around. One adult day, I will own a proper deviled egg platter, and as with most Southern kitchen relics like cast iron skillets, wooden spoons, and crystal punch bowls, it will be a hand-me-down, an inheritance.
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