deviled eggs

So, yesterday I made a melancholic post about life experiences that happen only once.  Whatever.  By now I should know not to write when I only have melancholy to share.  Here, would you like some melancholy?  I have plenty to spare.  The truth is that yesterday turned out grand.  I had dinner at Peter's with Juan and Ben, Ashley and Brian.  Later, at Betsy's book launch, I won a pair of fuzzy pink earbuds in a raffle.  Guy shoved a piece of carrot cake into my face, and I did the same to him.  What fun.  It made life suddenly very bearable.  Cake on the face is a great thing.  If your belly is full of ham and deviled eggs, there is little to complain about.

   
I only make deviled eggs once or twice a year, and one of those times is usually right around Easter.  At Peter's yesterday afternoon, we all remarked how fluffy the yolks were.  There may be other schools of thought about this; I mean, some people might prefer the yolk mixture to be lumpy and dense.  I'm going to take a chance and say that that school should be closed, and that the teachers should be stripped of their licenses.  You want that yolk mixture to be fluffy.  You want to whip air into the mayo and yolk mixture.  To make it fluffy, spend some time breaking the hard yolks down into the smallest possible particles.  Think smithereens.  My roommate, Brian, happens to own an immersion blender with a whisk attachment, and that baby came in real handy, but if you don't have one you can still use an old fashioned whisk.

Look at how fluffy those yolks are!  You can see little pockets of air in them.  If you take the time to do this, your deviled eggs will taste like sinful clouds.