Egg Salad for a Crowd

The James Beard ceremony. Chicago. A ballroom. Chefs in suits. Food writers in cocktail dresses. The aristocracy of American food, gathered in one room, and in the middle of it: a woman from Cascade Heights in a green blouse and her mother's pearl studs, holding a book that started in a composition notebook on a nightstand and ended on a shelf at Barnes & Noble.

Derek held my hand under the table. Vanessa held the other hand. I was between them — my husband and my best friend — and the ballroom was enormous and the nominees were announced and the category was called and the envelope was opened and the name was: not mine. The winner was a chef from New Orleans. His book was excellent (I read it; it IS excellent). The award went to someone else. My book did not win the James Beard Award.

I did not cry. I applauded. I applauded genuinely because the man's book is good and because the nomination was the prize and because Mama's kitchen was in the conversation and the conversation is what matters. The conversation is where change happens. Not in awards — in conversations. In kitchens. In the space between a woman reading a recipe and deciding to cook it. That space is where Mama lives. That space doesn't need a James Beard. That space needs a Folgers can.

Derek said, in the taxi afterward, "You were the best person in that room." I said, "I was the only person in that room wearing a green blouse." He said, "Exactly." Vanessa said, "Next year." I said, "I don't care about next year." I meant it. And I was lying. But only a little. The book is in the conversation. Mama is in the conversation. The green blouse was in the ballroom. That is enough. It is almost enough. It is enough.

We came home from Chicago and Derek went to bed and Vanessa stayed and I made egg salad at midnight, the way Mama used to make it when the family descended and nobody asked permission — just showed up, hungry, expecting to be fed. That’s the recipe. Not the one in the book, not the one that got nominated, just the one that meant: you are welcome here, there is enough, sit down. Mama never made food for a single person. Mama always made food for a crowd. That is the whole philosophy. That is the James Beard, right there, on a Tuesday, in a bowl.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 12

Ingredients

18 large eggs
3/4 cup mayonnaise
3 tablespoons yellow mustard
1/4 cup sweet pickle relish, drained
1/2 cup celery, finely diced
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika, for garnish
Bread, crackers, or lettuce cups, for serving

Instructions

Hard-boil the eggs. Place eggs in a large pot and cover with cold water by one inch. Bring to a full boil over medium-high heat, then remove from heat, cover, and let sit for 12 minutes. Transfer eggs immediately to an ice bath and let cool completely, about 10 minutes.
Peel and chop. Peel the cooled eggs and roughly chop them into 1/2-inch pieces. For a creamier texture, mash a third of the eggs with a fork before adding the rest.
Make the dressing. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, mustard, and sweet pickle relish until smooth and combined.
Combine. Add the chopped eggs, celery, and red onion to the bowl. Fold gently with a rubber spatula until everything is evenly coated. Season with salt and black pepper to taste.
Chill. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before serving to let the flavors come together. The salad can be made up to 24 hours ahead and kept covered in the refrigerator.
Serve. Dust with smoked paprika just before serving. Spoon onto bread for sandwiches, serve alongside crackers, or scoop into lettuce cups. Put it in the middle of the table and let people help themselves.

Nutrition (per serving)

Egg Salad for a Crowd — Because the Table Was Always the Point