I’ve been unplugged for about 24 hours now. Not completely unplugged, but off twitter and off facebook and not reading blogs because I just can’t read any more laments about the closing of Gourmet. I’m right there with others in the food world – particularly the food writing world – in my disappointment to see a fine food publication shuttered. I have some extra blah about it, too. Someone/someones were faced with the decision to close either Gourmet or Bon Appetit and they chose Gourmet. Nothing against Bon App, but Gourmet was one of those magazines that still had these things called words and stories in it, not just pictures and recipes, and I liked that. I’m sure it was a business decision – I know the Gourmet numbers were down even more than the horribly depressed Bon App numbers – but one way or another it’s a reminder that I’m not the target audience (a fact my dad once gently pointed out when I expressed dismay at some sports car ad when I was in my early and very outraged teens). People want pretty pictures and recipes in their food magazines, and not quite so much yackety-yack and crazy, interesting rather than purely pretty shots of the food. Where, I ask, does that leave the food writer? Or, rather, the writer who likes to write about food? What message can one take that isn’t a bit of a giant bummer? But, as I said, I’m tired of the laments, and so I will end my own.
Before the Monday Gourmet-closing blues hit, I spent the weekend going to parties. It was fabulous. Since I found myself in possession of a large number of pastured eggs (those from hens who spend their time actually running around a field scratching for bugs), I made crazy numbers of deviled eggs and brought plates of them all over town. Regular readers may notice that I don’t tend to get too excited about serving ware and styling – it’s never been my thing. But when it comes to deviled eggs I’m in possession of two particularly well-suited plates. That actual deviled egg plate with divots for the eggs pictured above, suitable for dinner parties (especially those thrown by a friend from Atlanta, a Southern girl who appreciates rarefied things like plates just for serving deviled eggs) and this bright plastic number better suited for toting deviled eggs to a raucous house-warming party at which I was offered a certain dessert (wink, wink) that had to be hidden from the children in attendance.
I’m sure you already have a fabulous recipe for deviled eggs (perhaps your mother cut it out of Gourmet at some point?), but, just in case, I make them by first, of course, hard-boiling however many eggs I’m going to need, usually at least six, so let’s say six – that’s easy to double to a dozen and keep doubling as the party requires.
So you start with six eggs. Put them in a medium saucepan and cover them with water. Bring to a boil. Cover and take off heat and let sit, covered mind you, for 14 minutes. Drain and rinse with cold water and peel.
Cut the eggs in half lengthwise and scoop out the yolks into a small bowl. You can push them through a sieve if you want to be super-fancy, but my lord is that a mess to clean so I never do it. Add a tablespoon each of softened butter and mayonnaise. You can also add a teaspoon of mustard, which I like and put into one batch but left out of another batch because one of the other people at the party really doesn’t like mustard and I didn’t miss it at all. Mash this all up with a fork and add salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the mixture back into the eggs (you can use a pastry bag to make this fancy but, again, what a mess to clean up). I like to garnish them with either minced chives or a bit of paprika. I played around with smoked paprika and hot paprika and, honestly, it made almost no difference at all because the aroma was lost by the time the eggs were served.
I added about a teaspoon of capers, minced within an inch of their lives, to one batch and that was delicious. Sweet pickle is another fine option, as are herbs of all sorts.
I try to make deviled eggs in a timely manner so they never go into the fridge after being cooked – the texture is a bit lovelier that way. They can, however, be covered and chilled for a day before serving.
Leslie | 06-Oct-09 at 2:18 pm | Permalink
For an extra delicious and exotic taste try adding curry powder or cumin to the yolk mixture. Yum!
Marc Hedlund | 06-Oct-09 at 9:00 pm | Permalink
Bah, I say, to your lament. I was sad to see Gourmet go, and perplexed at Bon Appetit’s survival. Those events say nothing about the love or death of food writing, though. The selections confirm that McKinsey management consulting (which recommended the outcome) is still completely soulless, but beyond that?
I’ve only ever occasionally bought Gourmet, but I read your blog all the time, and tons of other food blogs (even those from people I *don’t* know
. I read far more about food now than when I subscribed to a few food magazines — and the writing is better in many ways, more personal and whimsical and experimental. A lot of “yackety-yack and crazy, interesting.”
Of course you could lament food writing as a profession — I don’t know how all this blogging pays the bills, another Molly-food-blogger notwithstanding. But for “the writer who likes to write about food,” it seems like a great time. It’s a great time for *reading* about food, at least.
Molly Watson | 07-Oct-09 at 9:57 am | Permalink
Thanks for the buck-up, kind words, and perspective Marc!
cielo | 28-Oct-09 at 8:05 am | Permalink
i am a southern girl, molly, which may explain my love of deviled eggs. it may better explain, however, my deeper appreciation of the first plate pictured above. where did you get it? where???
Molly | 28-Oct-09 at 4:07 pm | Permalink
Oh Cielo, it was a gift – found, I believe, at a thrift store. I guess I’m the kind of girl that looks like she needs a deviled egg plate. It has survived several kitchen clean outs, too, which always sort of amazes me.