(L-R: Vic, The Lovely Bea (TLB) , Old Jim, Jon-without, and Chanteuse Mary at the feast thrown by TLB. Photo un-Plaic Jamie.)

Sure, there are some daunting problems confronting us this holiday season. Whatever that health thing is, a stagnant economy, sustained underemployment, out of control spending, implacable enemies overseas and all that stuff.

Plus the perceived decline of a once-great power. I was going to talk to Old Jim about that at the splendid holiday feast that Jon-Without and the Lovely Bea threw at their place yesterday afternoon. Instead, we talked a little about the Packers, who were going to rise and vanquish the Cowboys, and marvel at the consistency of the goodness laid out on TLB’s groaning table.

Whatever those pastry things were, fresh out of the oven, with the spices and sun-dried tomatoes, were dynamite. The main course- a brisket with creamy gravy and carrots- was to die for, and culminated in a pumpkin cheesecake that was nothing short of extraordinary.

I brought a bottle of wine in a cute little knitted holiday sock, all green and red and mistle-toey.

“Oh, that is so cute!” said TLB, who was looking predictably cute herself. Placid Jamie, for her part, was anything but. In fact, she was as agitated as I have seen her, but she can tell you about that herself.

“Knitted it this morning,” I said, stroking the sock. Then we dissolved in laughter, looking out at the spectacular view from the 20th floor of Jon-without’s building. Old Jim and Chanteuse Mary arrived in a two-part maneuver due to the intrinsic parking issues on the street below, but eventually the Willow’s Amen Corner Gang was united in a completely different place.

I should have cooked something, and have been experimenting with One of the perennial favorite’s at Willow is the tray of deviled eggs: five half eggs with a nice savory yellow filling. No, I have no idea why they serve two and a half eggs. It is a mystery.

I pride myself on my improvised cooking skills, but the simple deviled egg has been an eternal mystery. Not the filling, mind you, just cranking out a reliable hard-boiled egg.

My standards are high. Grandma used to do hers, boiled in beet juice, so that the eggs were a delicate shade of mauve with the filling bright yellow and cheery. Best I have ever tasted, and that is what I aspire to from those long-ago days in the little town in the Ohio River Valley. She is long gone, and I can’t ask her the secrets, but I will crack the code one of these days.

As a part of that, I have fond that one of my most disappointing culinary mishaps is trying to peel boiled eggs for a delicious and beautiful display of deviled eggs, only to discover that the eggshells are stubbornly sticking to the white gleaming flesh of the eggs. When you try to peel sticking shell remnants away from boiled eggs, you are often left with pockmarked eggs that remind me of the face of former Panamanian Strongman Manuel Noriega.

They are clearly unsuitable for display at a civilized table, though I have had success in taking them to the crazy tail-gates at College Park, but that may be because everyone rapidly transitions to a place where they are in no condition to judge ova-complexion issues.

For me, the Croftburn Farms fresh eggs are the standard for breakfast. But someone whispered me a tip: freshness is not the secret to decent hard-boiled eggs. I

“WTF,” I blurted. “How old do they have to be? How can you tell?”

So here is the deal: if you were going to break it down, choice of egg, method of boiling and the peeling process and the right recipe for the filling are the steps that must be accomplished to create the right egg.

I will attempt to address these critical issues as we approach the holidays. Stay tuned as we advance on the Holiday, and I hope to be able to close on the deal of the perfect egg, and trust me, the beet juice is the trick that will help make you the Emperor of Egg.

That is going to have to wait until tomorrow. I need to look at the Fed Easy Money Policy, which is considerably simpler than those darned deviled eggs.

Copyright 2013 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303