When we last left off, I was making deviled eggs to take to our end of the year school potyuck. All the eggs had been peeled, and I was carefully examining them for dog hair. I strive to cook dog hair free, but when you run a Bed and Biscuit Inn, a dog hair or two in your food is inevitable. My family just removes the hair, tries to guess which dog it belongs to, and carries on. However, I worried that the more discerning foodies would mind finding a dog hair in their deviled eggs and doubted they would believe that dog hair was a new type of organic seasoning. I decided instead that if someone announced finding a dog hair in their food, I would immediately start clapping and screaming “YOU WON, YOU WON!” and hand them a prize. Done with scrutinizing the eggs, it was time to move on to making the egg goop (sometime referred to as deviled egg filling).
While I was mixing the egg goop, Vickie, our friend and camp-run-a-pup helper, was reading my first blog post about the potyuck and sent me a text telling me that she had some nifty decorating tips that would be perfect for filling the eggs with the goop. Vickie arrived shortly after the text with tips and pastry bags in hand, and my fear of dog hair and food poisoning subsided. Presentation, my friends, is everything. Vickie knew eggxactly what to do, and with a little clever maneuvering on my part, she filled each egg to perfection! She offered to let me use the decorating tips, but I felt it would be a shame to interrupt the flow of her artistic work. The fact that she was up to her elbows in egg goop had nothing to do with my reluctance. Really! Just as Vickie was finishing filling the last egg, Cole (my 17-year-old son) walked through the door, scarfed up four of them, and gave them his seal of approval. After a sprinkling of paprika, all that was left to do was to pack them up for the trip to the potyuck. Easier said than done. Transporting those devils was a real challenge because they couldn’t be covered without messing up their puffed up tops.
Cole and I left for the potyuck with one tray of deviled eggs in his lap and the other tray on the table between the two front seats. We were merrily motoring along, until Cole casually poked the top of a deviled egg with his finger, put his finger in his mouth, and then poked it again. I yelled at Cole; he responded, “The devil made me do it!” Then suddenly, a moron pulled out in front of me. I hit my breaks, and the garage door compartment located above the tray of eggs flew open, propelling the garage door clicker directly into the deviled eggs. No yolk!
Would you believe from our garage to the home hosting the potyuck was only 6.8 miles?
(These were the eggs Cole was holding–not the eggs the clicker fell on)
Arriving at our final destination, Cole graciously offered to put the trays of deviled eggs on top of the cooler he was carrying into house. Ha! Protectively, I whisked what was left of my deviled eggs inside, found a pretty platter to put them on, and repaired the damage. Considering everything they had been through, they looked pretty darn good, and they were gobbled up appreciatively with no mention of dog hair. I confirmed the next day with our host that I wasn’t on her most wanted list for food poisoning.
Going forward. I’m not going to push my luck. I’ll stick to what I know best and take beverages to potyucks, or perhaps pretty paper goods. Presentation is everything.
Part 3 coming soon to an Odd Blog near you: The 10 most annoying things about Potyucks. As determined by my highly scientific survey.
Odd Loves Company!