Classic Southern Deviled Eggs

Tasha's mother called me. Her name is Gloria, she lives in Decatur, and she called to introduce herself, which I found charming and old-fashioned and exactly right. She said, "Mrs. Henderson, my daughter is marrying your grandson and I think we should talk." I said, "Gloria, call me Dot, and yes we should, and also what are you making for the rehearsal dinner?" Because that is how you get to know someone — you plan a meal together and you see what they're made of.

Gloria is a talker. I am a listener who talks. We spent forty-five minutes on the phone and by the end I knew that she's from Alabama, she makes jerk chicken (which Marcus mentioned months ago), she is divorced, she has two daughters, and she considers potato salad a competitive sport. I like her. She said she'd bring her potato salad to the wedding and I said I'd bring mine and we could let the guests decide. She laughed. She doesn't know I'm not kidding.

The wedding will be in June, Marcus says. In Atlanta. I told him I need three months notice minimum because I have food to plan and an outfit to buy and Earl needs to see the doctor before we travel. Marcus said, "Grandma, it's two hours on I-16." I said, "Marcus, when you are sixty-one years old and your husband has a bad heart and your knees sound like Rice Krispies, two hours on I-16 is an expedition."

At school, the spring gardens are going in. Miss Franklin's first graders are growing beans in cups on the windowsill, and she asked me to come talk to them about where food comes from. I stood in front of twenty-two six-year-olds and told them that the green beans they eat at lunch started as seeds in dirt, which blew their minds. One girl said, "You mean food comes from the ground?" I said, "Baby, where did you think it came from?" She said, "The store." I said, "We have work to do."

I made deviled eggs this week. Three dozen, because when I make deviled eggs I cannot stop at one dozen — it's like eating popcorn, you make one more and one more and then the carton is empty. My deviled eggs are simple: yolks mashed with mayonnaise, yellow mustard, a little sweet relish, salt, pepper, and a shake of paprika on top. Nothing fancy. Nothing that needs a food processor or a piping bag. I mash the yolks with a fork because that is how Hattie Pearl did it and because a fork has never let me down, which is more than I can say for most kitchen gadgets.

Now go on and feed somebody.

With a wedding on the horizon and a potato salad showdown brewing between me and Gloria, I figured I’d better get my party food muscles warmed up. These deviled eggs are the ones I made three dozen of this week — the ones I mash with a fork the way Hattie Pearl did, no piping bag required. If you’re fixing to feed somebody at a rehearsal dinner, a church potluck, or just your own kitchen table on a Tuesday, this is where you start.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 32 minutes | Servings: 24 deviled egg halves

Ingredients

12 large eggs
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon yellow mustard
2 tablespoons sweet relish
1/4 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
Paprika, for garnish

Instructions

Boil the eggs. Place eggs in a single layer in a large pot and cover with cold water by one inch. Bring to a rolling boil over high heat, then remove from heat, cover, and let sit for 12 minutes.
Cool and peel. Transfer eggs to an ice bath and let cool for at least 10 minutes. Peel under cool running water and pat dry.
Halve and scoop. Slice each egg in half lengthwise and gently pop the yolks into a medium bowl.
Mash the filling. Using a fork, mash the yolks until no large lumps remain. Add the mayonnaise, yellow mustard, sweet relish, salt, and pepper. Stir with the fork until smooth and well combined. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Fill the whites. Spoon the yolk mixture into each egg white half, mounding it slightly in the center. A small spoon works just fine — no piping bag necessary.
Finish and serve. Shake paprika over the tops of each filled egg. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving to let the flavors come together.

Nutrition (per serving)

Classic Southern Deviled Eggs — Three Dozen and Counting