I fall victim to the “oh my God that is so cute” sickness on Pinterest regularly. I’m pretty sure Easter is the best holiday for that. Bunnies and chicks are already so cute I want to die.
How, I ask you, could any human being with a real, beating heart resist this? Not I. Especially since deviled eggs are one of the things that I am usually capable of not fucking up. Usually is the key word there, apparently. Sigh. Can you see where this is going?
You guys, it doesn’t seem like it would make that much difference to cut open a boiled egg the long way rather than the short way. It does. That freaking yolk is never where you expect it to be. 9 eggs later, I had 6 mostly passable ones.
This pissed me off mightily. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s having to throw away perfectly good food. (I know. Blame it on years of hearing about starving children in China. I can’t help it. It explains a lot about me, actually.)
But I forged on, slopping deviled egg mixture into the sort of limp and broken whites. It’s damn hard to get yolks out when you slice them this way without the whole egg exploding in a fart-smelling hard-boiled egg bomb in your hand. Just trust me. (I don’t have a picture of that because I was too busy using the resurrected savior’s name in vain to get my camera.)
The result is less than perfect. But maybe I can serve the demented devil-chick eggs to the kids tomorrow and it won’t give them nightmares for more than a few weeks.
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