Succeeding at Disaster

Next weekend William has Easter break so we will be home for five days. I haven’t yet asked him if he wants to dye Easter eggs. It’s a mother’s job to allow her child to grow up and stop needing her but every time we let go of one of these childhood traditions, I feel a small tug of sadness that childhood is so fleeting. However, there may be one way to convince William to dye eggs. I simply must promise to turn them into deviled eggs after Easter. He is crazy for them.

Unfortunately, for William and the rest of our family, my last experience with deviled eggs was less than successful. The word disaster really is fitting. We were planning for a large group of family for Christmas day dinner and I boiled two dozen eggs in anticipation so I would have plenty. On Christmas morning I settled in to start taking the shells off of the eggs but when I cracked into the first egg I noticed it was a little soft and the yolk wasn’t quite set but it’s not uncommon to have one bad egg in the bunch. By the sixth egg, I was starting to suspect our deviled egg supply would be lower than I planned but I forged on. After all, I have never in my life under-boiled an egg. I reached the end and was left with a trash can full of shells, shredded whites, and a bowl filled with yolks that were perfectly over easy. Except I didn't want over easy. Besides, boiling eggs should not come close to producing over easy.

I sat there holding back tears of frustration wondering why, after the first few, I didn’t just try to boil them a little longer. But I summoned my determination and brainstormed for a plan b. Perhaps the microwave would help solidify the yolks a bit and who cares what the whites look like. I tried a small amount and it worked o.k. Not perfect but I thought if I could save these eggs; by golly, I’d move ahead. So I put the entire batch of yolks in the microwave. I think on that splendid Christmas day, I discovered a suitable alternate. For Silly Putty.

Those that know me, understand how important the holidays and Christmas dinner are to me. I spend months planning food and fun for the entire holiday season. So you know what I did next? I took a deep breath, pulled the trash can closer, ignoring the words that any guilt-inducing parent would say to their child, “You know there are starving people in…” and I dumped the entire mess.

Then I moved on and became a honey badger. If you are not familiar with the honey badger, I will give you a couple of warnings. One, don’t watch this with your children and, two; don’t watch if you do not have a foul sense of humor. To anyone that came into the kitchen that day, I announced there would be no deviled eggs and honey badger don’t care. And you know what else, it was probably the most relaxed Christmas dinner I have ever prepared and I think everyone else was relaxed too.

So will I try making deviled eggs again this Easter season to make my son happy? Well, it is a time of new starts and rebirth. And, darn it, if it gets him to color eggs that’s a bonus.

Hello followers! It has been way way too long but a good friend has encouraged me to blog again but with new rules. I was too strict before and thought my blogging should be about my magical creations. Let’s be real. I’m a working mom who helps her kid with homework each night and has to keep on top of a house so magic in the kitchen is rare; from here on, you will see some of my best, a lot of my worst (I call them learning opportunities), my favorite kitchen gadgets, a lot of convenience, and whatever my mind tells me to write about. With that said and I am back and dum dum dum dum….

THE THRILL OF THE GRILL! I love my grill. Seriously! It was a Christmas gift and for the first 2 years of its summer life, I would always, without fail, express my love and joy every time I used it. I am a charcoal girl. Granted, a gas grill would be a nice addition for side items along with a full outdoor kitchen but seriously...the main event will always be cooked on charcoal as long as I have a set of tongs in my hand and a beating heart in my body. What makes my grill special? Yes, it is charcoal but…wait for it…wait…it has gas ignition. No more messing with lighter fluid or a chimney starter. Oh no, my friends. I dump in a few coals, hit a switch, and I HAVE MADE FIRE! You simply turn off the gas switch once the coals ignite and you’re good to go. And it doesn’t use big, heavy propane tanks, just small camp stove ones.

Thanks to our unusually warm March, I have grilled several times so far this season. Tonight I made a perfectly medium sirloin steak, grilled potatoes, and a salad on the side. My discerning son ate every bite on his plate so I consider it a homerun.

I think even Bobby Flay, my grilling hero, would approve of my grill.