Bewitched, Bothered, & Bewildered

SO this is a partial photo of the current contents of our refri-gerator. Try not to be distracted by the Red Hook Longhammer IPA, or the gorgeous kaiser rolls to the left. What I want you to see is the two containers on the left of the bottom shelf.

Anyone who comes here regularly knows what is coming next.

My brother asked me to bring some of my special deviled eggs, which usually contain dijon mustard and dill relish in the filling asnd are dusted with chili powder as a garnish, to my nephew Zeb's 1st birthday party. (These are known as "bedeviled eggs.") We got about half way across town before El Wiferino recalled that the eggs were still in the fridge, too late toi turn back and get them.

So I have eggs in my fridge. My brother has threatened to come over some time this next week and snag them. We shall see. In a nutshell: the smaller container, which now contains 3 eggs, was full, containing six eggs when we got home. That was a half hour ago.

But the real purpose to this blog entry is to share the formula of this batch. The standard formula for devilled eggs is about 3 tablespoons of mayo for every 6 whole eggs, with a tablespoon of sugar, mustard, and a teaspoon of vinegar to the same number of eggs, and salt and pepper to taste. For this batch, I used no sugar at all, about a tablespoon and a half of dijon mustard per half dozen eggs (so about 3 tablespoons of mustard), then sea salt and black pepper. And rather than starting with a predetermined mass of mayo, started with enough to start mixing, then added mayo until the texture was perfect. (I am convinced this is the correct method.) Right before that step I added the dill relish, and, for a last, tart finishing note, malt vinegar.

The result is an object of unrefined beauty, tart and salty and eggy and slightly custardy in the filling, just wonderful. I have decided to christen them . . . Any guesses? Bewitched, Bothered, & Bewildered. I was going to tyack "Eggs" onto the end of the sobrioquet, but that would have just been unweildy. Of course, assuming that I get asked to bring eggs again, and assuming the platter gets there (and no, I have not ruled out some sort of gastronomic Freudian slip as the cause of this oversight), I am anticipating the following exchange:

'imself: "Bewitched, Bothered, & Bewildered!"

Party-Goer: "Which ones are bewitched, which are bothered, and which are bewildered?"

'imself: "Yes!"

It's at moments like this when I suspect my wife bought a digital camera as much to take pictures as to provide a method by which she can be conveniently absent during such exchanges.