Mamma’s Deviled Eggs — The Recipe That Has Never Needed Improving in Sixty Years

Memorial Day weekend. Paul and I went to the cemetery on Saturday — Park Hill Cemetery, where Pappa is buried next to a spot reserved for Mamma, though Mamma says she's in no hurry to use it and I believe her. Lars is there too, in a plot Pappa chose in 1979, under a headstone that says LARS GUNNAR JOHANSSON 1960-1979 BELOVED SON AND BROTHER, and every time I read it I think: nineteen years. He was alive for nineteen years. I've been alive almost three times that long. It doesn't seem fair. It isn't fair. Fair is a concept that doesn't apply to cemeteries. Paul stood beside me while I cleaned the headstones — pulling weeds, wiping down the granite, replacing the small Swedish flag that Mamma insists on putting there every Memorial Day even though neither Pappa nor Lars served in the military. "They served this family," Mamma says, and that's the end of that discussion. Erik drove over from his house on the West End. He's sixty-two, retired from the paper mill last year — the same mill that killed Lars, which Erik worked at for thirty-seven years because Johansson men don't walk away from things, even things that took something from them. He's grayer than I remember. When did Erik get old? When did any of us get old? Erik and I stood at Lars's grave and he said, "Forty years this year." I nodded. We didn't say anything else. The Johansson siblings communicate in silences. It's efficient, if emotionally opaque. On Sunday I made a picnic because that's what you do on Memorial Day weekend in Duluth if the weather cooperates, and this year it cooperated — fifty-eight degrees and sunny, which in Duluth is practically tropical. Paul and I went to Leif Erikson Park, spread a blanket on the grass overlooking the lake, and ate deviled eggs, ham sandwiches on homemade rye, and a pasta salad with dill and cucumbers that is my contribution to the potluck tradition and which I defend against all criticism. The deviled eggs are Mamma's recipe, unchanged in sixty years. Hard-boiled eggs, mashed yolks, mayonnaise, mustard, a pinch of sugar (Swedish cooks put sugar in everything — it's our national weakness), paprika on top. They are perfect in their simplicity. I made two dozen and we ate them all. Paul ate eight. I stopped counting because a wife who counts her husband's deviled eggs is a wife looking for an argument. The lake was calm, which is rare. Lake Superior is usually angry or at least irritated, but on Sunday it was glass — flat and blue and endless. Paul pointed out the ore boats on the horizon and named them. I let him. Some wives have husbands who golf. I have a husband who identifies ships. We all make our accommodations. We came home sunburned and happy and Sven was furious that he'd been left behind, expressing his displeasure by refusing to look at me for forty-five minutes, which for a golden retriever is an eternity of coldness. I gave him a piece of ham and he forgave me immediately. His principles have limits.

There is something about a perfect Sunday — lake glass-flat, husband happily narrating ore boats, dog eventually forgiving you for a piece of ham — that calls for a recipe just as unfussy and reliable as the day itself. Mamma’s deviled eggs have been the right answer at every family gathering since before I was old enough to make them myself, and they were the right answer again on Sunday: simple, a little sweet in that stubbornly Swedish way, and impossible to stop eating. Here is how I make them.

Mamma’s Deviled Eggs

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 32 min (plus cooling) | Servings: 24 halves (12 eggs)

Ingredients

• 12 large eggs
• 1/3 cup mayonnaise
• 1 tablespoon yellow mustard
• 1 teaspoon white sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
• 1/4 teaspoon white pepper
• Sweet paprika, for dusting

Instructions

1. Hard-boil the eggs. Place eggs in a single layer in a saucepan and cover with cold water by 1 inch. Bring to a full boil over medium-high heat, then cover, remove from heat, and let sit 12 minutes.
2. Cool and peel. Transfer eggs immediately to an ice bath and let sit 10 minutes. Peel under cool running water and pat dry.
3. Halve and remove yolks. Slice each egg lengthwise. Pop yolks into a medium bowl and arrange whites cut-side up on a platter.
4. Make the filling. Mash yolks thoroughly with a fork until no large lumps remain. Add mayonnaise, mustard, sugar, salt, and white pepper. Mix until smooth and creamy. Taste and adjust salt if needed.
5. Fill the whites. Spoon or pipe the yolk mixture into each egg white half, mounding it slightly above the rim.
6. Finish with paprika. Dust lightly with sweet paprika. Refrigerate uncovered for at least 20 minutes before serving to let the filling set.

Nutrition (per serving — 2 halves)

Calories: 145 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 1g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 180mg