Two Days, Two Dozen Eggs: Part 2

For E.'s housewarming party this weekend I decided to go retro. Devilled eggs retro.

I was determined to make these the ultimate devilled egg, no ordinary oeuf mimosa. My instincts told me that despite the recipe’s European origins in ancient Rome and Andalusia, it might have been a while since the devilled egg made an appearance on the Oxford dinner party scene. I was right.

These little beauties were met with a bit of apprehension, and most of our friends went for the crisps and E.’s delectable bruschetta before venturing over to the Pyrex casserole lids filled with eggs (when one is many moons away from places where devilled egg serving plates are easily procured, one improvises). Somehow, though, by the end of a very enjoyable evening, the lids were empty...

Here is my version:1 dozen eggs

¼ cup mayonnaise

1 ½ Tbs. Dijon mustard

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

2 shallots, minced

2 Tbs. capers, drained and minced

1-2 Tbs. sambal oelec

3-4 dashes Tabasco

Salt and pepper to taste

1. Boiling the eggs

Here I decided to consult Julia Child’s egg chapter in The Way to Cook (my culinary Bible for methods), and it worked beautifully. Place the eggs in enough warm water so that the water level is at least one inch above the eggs. Bring the pot to a boil and then immediately pop the lid on the pot of water and remove from the heat, allowing the eggs to sit for exactly 17 minutes. Then, shock the eggs in cold water (this will prevent that woeful, nasty brownish/green discoloration around the yolk) for two minutes. Finally, pour boiling water over the cooked, cooled eggs, and peel. The temperature shock of cold water followed by boiling water will cause the membrane around the egg to release from the white more easily, making the peeling process far easier.

2. Filling

Halve the eggs (I found that cleaning the knife with a damp paper towel between slicing helped to make cleaner cuts) and add the yolks to the other ingredients listed. The filling is, of course, subject to personal taste, but I must say that the sambal oelek chilli paste really worked a dream! Place the mixture in a piping bag with a star tip and fill the white cavities.

The frizzled shallots are optional. But so good!

Remember the lemon curd from Part 1?

Try dipping shortbread cookies in it and dust with confectioner’s sugar.

Two Days, Two Dozen Eggs: Part 1

The bureaucratic gods smiled warmly upon me this month: the UK Border Agency returned my passport, visa therein, wait for it...one week early! In this age of cynicism and general ire directed towards government agencies, when immigration solutions seem all the more elusive even as the problem mounts and countries lock down their borders instead of looking to the roots of global poverty, I choose to look upon the early arrival of granted leave in the UK as a glimmer of light.

Hence, cupcakes. And how could there be a more hopeful, light variety of cupcake than Coconut Lemon Meringue Cupcakes! The egg itself, of which one needs 9 for this recipe, with its sunny yolk and billowing whites represents a new beginning which emulsifies, binds together, while also aerating and lightening.

Perhaps that was a bit much.

In any case, these were delicious cupcakes. The batter has coconut milk and 6 egg whites, which, together, create a fluffy batter that makes the top of the cupcake more like a cake-y macaroon than dense cake. The golden lemon curd in the middle counters the sweet, toasted meringue, and, all together, creates an irresistible combination.

The only modification I made to the recipe was to make a true Italian meringue. So, instead of just egg and sugar over simmering water, I made a 'softball stage' sugar syrup and drizzled it into whipped, then beaten whites. Julia Child's The Way To Cook is an excellent reference here. The egg chapter has a comprehensive section on meringues.