The Devil's Eggs

If you are like me (Suzy), then deviled eggs bring back memories of 4th of July picnics and your grandmother's house. But these are not the best of memories, especially from my grandmother's kitchen that had a bottomless cookie jar.

Deviled eggs: Hardboiled concoctions with their yolks pumped back into them via pastry bag--not my idea of the ideal appetizer. Give me cheese and crackers or ants-on-a-log any day over these hard-boiled egg white skeletons complete with repumped yolks mixed with mayo (topped with paprika, if extra effort is exerted).

Thus, imagine my surprise when the wise and food-loving Daniel Keyserling ordered just that this Sunday at The Spotted Pig where Brandt and I met him and our friend Conor for the blessed NYC Sunday brunch. From Brandt's, "I like deviled eggs, but am not in the mood" to my, "um...sure...get whatever you want" to Conor's outright, "I'm not a deviled egg fan" (and all of our clear memories of awkward, summer family picnics lingering in the midst) we were, to say the least, skeptical.


Until the first bite (and only bite, since four of us split 2). The mastery of flavors that The Spotted Pig achieved with this simple and all-to-familiar appetizer was palate-pleasing to say the least, and certainly worth a taste in your near future. Certainly the only way to follow up these eggy wonders was shoestring french fries, iced coffee, champagne toasts, and dark and stormies with dear friends.