Deviled eggs remind me of the holidays. One of my cousins had to have a tray of deviled eggs just to himself. He wouldn’t eat anything else, just those eggs.
He was the only one of us that was tall and lanky, definitely an odd man out in a family of shorties. Actually, now that I think of it, he was the only one of us that didn’t talk that much. I’d ask him questions and he would give one word answers and continue to stare at his food. Not like the rest of us “young’uns” who were frenzied with activity and possibly ready for a food fight at any moment.
At the time, I thought he was kind of weird, stooping over his plate at the too small children’s table, not talking, completely focused on chasing each egg, one by one, while they slid across his plate and eventually into his grasp. Quietly, he sat slowly chewing and eventually swallowing in one big gulp, only to accent his large protruding adam’s apple on his long neck. You could tell, he savored every bite.
Now I know he wasn’t weird, he just had a more elevated understanding of his food. He knew what he wanted and he practiced mindful eating before it was cool. This is for my cousin, the trendsetter, our family’s deviled eggs. Enjoy!