The lazy/spicy deviled eggs of my dreams, & how the Paschal Mystery helps us understand the transitions in our lives
Yes, this one's about both theology & pickles, & I feel great about that :)
Hello from our front stoop—it’s Holy Saturday and also the first really warm Saturday of the springtime here. You can feel the energy in the air—our upstairs neighbors’ parents are visiting, another neighbor’s daughters are home from college for the weekend. People are walking past our stoop with totes that are full-to-bursting with tulips and brown paper-wrapped packages from the butcher on Smith. I’m about to marinate chicken for a sheet-pan shawarma for tomorrow’s lunch, and I just came back from picking up those last few things for the Easter baskets, and also little glass pots of French pudding (dark chocolate, pistachio, and French vanilla) that we’ll have for dessert tomorrow.
While I’m talking menu, here’s what we’re having: to start, deviled eggs with hummus and carrots, matzo and ramp butter. And then chicken shawarma, roasted carrots over hummus with harissa, quinoa with feta and dill, peas, a baguette with more ramp butter, and the aforementioned little pudding pots. To drink for Aaron and I, a Lambrusco, because it’s Aaron’s favorite and because I truly believe bubbles are mandatory on Easter Sunday. (Okay, I also believe that they’re mandatory on several other holidays, but I digress…)
We went to Jackson Hole, Wyoming for the first part of our boys’ spring break, and I’ll tell you more about it in coming weeks, but the short version is we absolutely loved it! None of us had ever been to Wyoming, and Jackson absolutely charmed us—hikes and bike rides, milkshakes at Jackson Drug, moose and elk and big horn sheep sightings. What a delight—what a special trip!
Before I get to all that, though: yesterday was Good Friday, and tomorrow is Easter Sunday, and I have a thought for all of us about one of the central theologies of Christian teaching. I know that not everyone who reads this newsletter is Christian, certainly—and I’m so glad you’re here, whatever your religious or spiritual perspective. You’re very welcome, of course, and I believe that here in this space, as in all of life, the differences in our traditions and perspectives enrich us.
I’m no theologian, but there are a handful of Christian ideas that I believe are less about specific religious belief and more about describing the world and the human experience for all of us, and the Paschal Mystery is one of those. Good religion, in my view, is just that: a grounding and healing acknowledgment of how the world actually works.
The word “paschal” refers to Easter, and the phrase “Paschal Mystery” refers both to the life, death and resurrection of Christ, but also to the pattern of life, death, and resurrection all through our lives—it’s easily observable in the cycle of the seasons, in the pattern for each human life, and a helpful pattern for all sorts of things within in the human experience.
What I mean is this: nothing lasts forever—not our bodies, not our lives, not this season, not the next one. Everything is changing, all the time, and it’s been really helpful for me to look more closely at some of the transitions in my life, particularly the ones that I haven’t chosen, and to view them through the lens of the Paschal Mystery:
What's alive?
What's dead or dying (especially if you really, really don't want to admit it)?
Where are signs of new life?
Pushing a little deeper:
Where something is dead or dying, are you allowing yourself to grieve? Are there endings in your life right now that you haven’t allowed yourself to mourn?
Where there’s new life, while usually that’s mostly positive, is there any part of you that feels fearful or anxious about what’s coming next?
Are there parts of your life that you’re keeping on life support, possibly at great personal cost to yourself, because admitting that they’re over feels almost unbearable?
Are you tending well to the living things in your life right now—cherishing them, nurturing them, giving them the care they deserve?
Do you need support or care as you embrace the new life in front of you? Who can you reach out to? Who can you ask for help?
Here’s what I want you to do: in the next week or so, take an hour and write about these questions, or go for a walk & wonder about them, or (bonus points!) talk about it around the table with your friends or family tomorrow.
I’ve mentioned it before, but right now we’re in the middle of all sorts of transitions—some are exciting and some are hard, but all of them deserve a little attentiveness or care, maybe a little grieving, too. Our culture loves to run run run forward without looking back—up and to the right! Onward and upward! But I’m learning that every change, even the good ones, need to be considered tenderly, and the practice of viewing the changes in my life through the Paschal Mystery has been really healing and life-changing for me. I hope it is for you, too.
And now, my extremely strong feelings on the topic of deviled eggs ;)
Two thoughts: first, in this economy, I feel it’s safe to assume we’re all making fewer deviled eggs than in previous years. Here’s what I’m doing--and what I recommend to you—I’m making the deviled eggs more like chorus members than main characters. Here’s what I mean: instead of a massive platter of eggs and only eggs, I’m only making a couple, and I’m surrounding them with all sorts of other delicious things.
For us, that means Hillary Sterling’s excellent wood-fired matzo with ramp-horseradish-lemon butter, Little Sesame’s preserved lemon hummus, and some rainbow carrots—so, so beautiful, right?
I think some green grapes would fit right in, maybe some sliced Irish cheddar, and a little prosciutto or mortadella would be just lovely. Radishes with butter, of course, or stalks of asparagus, boiled and sprinkled with flaky salt, would be seasonal and perfect. Pimento cheese and saltines would make my day.
The point is that you don’t need 48 deviled eggs to scratch that “it isn’t Easter without deviled eggs” itch—boil six eggs for a dozen little devils and fill in generously around them.
Okay, now on to the deviled eggs themselves: my thoughts and my technique have evolved over the years, and I’ve arrived at a very low-lift, high-flavor intersection that I’m pretty excited about.
First, I need deviled eggs to have something going on, both in terms of flavor and texture, beyond totally smooth and creamy, and only egg, mayo, and mustard. I need a little crunch and a little intensity of flavor, and also from an effort standpoint, we’ve got a lot on our plates (pun intended!) on Easter weekend, between baskets and egg hunts and full menus, etc etc etc.
Two Easters ago, I made the radical choice to NOT SCOOP OUT the egg yolks, and guys, I’ve never looked back. Instead, I hard boil, peel and halve the eggs as usual, and then mix together mayo and Dijon. I dollop a little of that mixture on top of the halved egg, and then add a little pickle-y something and a sprinkle of everything bagel seasoning.
You can add more, certainly—some finely chopped shallot, a drop of red Tabasco, a grind of black pepper. This time around I used Ayoh Dill Pickle mayo, which is absolutely delicious—it’s mayo-dijon blend with chopped dill pickles already in it…it’s like they’re doing the work for me! On half of them I added a tiny spoonful of Grillo’s Pickle de Gallo—you may remember that my obsession with this product began last summer and I’m here to report that the obsession has not waned in the slightest. On the remaining eggs, I put a little slice of dill pickle. Usually I have a jar of cornichons, and I put one slender little pickle on each half.
And if it’s helpful, here’s how I boil the eggs: I cover the eggs with hot tap water in a saucepan, and then put the lid on and turn the burner up to high. When the water starts to boil, I turn off the burner and set an eight minute timer. (It’s especially nice if you have a clear pot lid, because then you can watch for the boil, but if not, you can just check occasionally.) After the timer goes off, drain out the hot water and set it under the tap for a few minutes with the coldest possible water. If your tap water isn’t super cold, you can add some ices cubes—ours is glacially cold so it cools down the eggs pretty quickly.
From there, once they’re cool, peel and halve. On the topic of peeling: I can gauge my personal level of anxiety and patience by how many eggs I destroy because I’m going too fast, and these days I take it as an invitation to practice a little Zen mindset. Slow yourself down, take some deep breaths, and do not hurry. I find the peels do come off better when I crack gently absolutely all over the whole egg and then keep putting them underwater to wash away the little bits—I keep them in the pot of cool water and do as much peeling under the water as possible.
Okay, to recap: 8 minute boil, deep breaths and peel slowly. A little dollop of mayo & Dijon, a little something pickle-y and a generous sprinkle of everything bagel seasoning—that’s it, the Lazy/Spicy Deviled Egg of my dreams.
Wishing you a lovely, meaningful Easter! I hope you spend some delicious time around the table with people you love, and I hope the pattern of the Paschal Mystery helps you, even in some small way, to make sense of what is, of the endings and beginnings all around us. XO—S