Green Eggs and Ham
Every month or so I have a little soiree with a group of ladies that I went to school with. Usually our girl’s nights involve high heels, fancy cocktails and passed appetizers. Once in a while, however, we invite our partners to sit sullenly and watch hockey on TV join us in our merriment and hold a potluck at someone’s house. Without fail the emails start to circulate about who brings what to the party (First response: “I’ll bring a chicken dish and some wine!” Second response: “Okay, I’ll bring potatoes and a salad…and some wine.” Third response: “I’ll bring an appetizer, dessert, and some wine!” You can guess where it goes from there….) and we all wait for Lisa to respond.
Lisa makes devilled eggs. She makes really, really good devilled eggs. We watch, and wait, and sometimes even hold our breath until she says that she’ll bring her infamous devilled eggs.
I know, devilled eggs are, like, so done, man. Ha, I say! To hell with trends. Watermelon and scallop ceviche with shiso won’t get the guys off the couch, but when a tray of devilled eggs are unwrapped they spring to life and hoover through the dining room like a swarm of grumpy man-locusts. I maintain my position that just because devilled eggs are retro doesn’t mean they’re not the most popular plate at the party…unless there are cocktail weenies or sweet and sour meatballs. Those are the days to duck and cover.
With spring in the air and April bringing whimsy, I thought that it was time to revisit our good ol’ friend green eggs and ham for Easter brunch. After all, what is Easter without eggs? And ham. I do like me some ham, particularly cured and finely sliced Italian ham…..
Green Eggs and Ham
Makes 24 pieces
- 1 dozen eggs *
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise
- 2 tsp smooth Dijon mustard
- small handful chives (1/4 cup chopped)
- handful basil (1/2 cup chopped)
- small bunch parsley (1/2 cup chopped)
- salt to taste
- 6 thin slices prosciutto *
* No prosciutto? Thinly sliced Parma or Serrano ham would be delightful!
Put the eggs in a pot and cover them with cold water. Bring the water to a slow boil and then cover the pot, remove it from the heat and let it stand for 15 minutes.
Drain the eggs and rinse them under icy cold water, filling the pot back up with ice water and letting them sit for a few minutes until the temperature comes down. Carefully peel the eggs, trying not to make any gouges or cuts in the white. A Cat o’ Nine Tails egg may taste the same but it will probably be the last brave soldier left standing on the plate.
If your egg is difficult to peel, try peeling it under cold running water. It helps to shock the egg and the membrane tightens, holding onto more of the shell as you go.
Slice the peeled eggs in half horizontally using a long, thin knife. A filet knife is perfect. A steak knife? Not so much. Save the textured borders for Sunday Scrapbooking instead.
Pop the egg yolks out and into the bowl of a food processor. Dollop in the mayo and mustard, the leaves of the basil and parsley, and the chives (you might want to cut them into segments before they’re dropped in, just for ease of blending).
Blend the mixture until it’s smooth and creamy. Season with salt to taste.
Now then, onto the fun part! Slice each piece of proscuitto lengthwise into four strips, each about 1/2″ thick. Cut each piece horizontally in half, so there are 8 even ribbons of prosciutto from each piece.
Take two pieces of prosciutto for every half egg.
Lay the two pieces of prosciutto down flat with about a 1 inch overlap in the center. Place the egg on top of the overlap and wrap the prosciutto around the egg so it forms a belt. Tuck the ends down snugly in the center of the egg where the yolk used to be.
Using a piping bag (or an empty Ziploc with a corner snipped off if you’re as ghetto as I am) pipe the filling into each egg.
Lovely and classic, a tray of bright and fresh looking appetizers always just puts a bit of wind in my sails….and makes me wish I had a glass of chardonnay in one hand, which I probably should. After all, brunch starts at 11 a.m., right?
I get so chuffed by the look of those dandy little prosciutto belts. After all, who says that devilled eggs can’t accessorize? If I could wear accessories made of cured meat I probably would. And maybe the neighbors dog would stop snarling at me every time I walked by. Oh, and people could refer to me as a ham-some lady without either of us feeling creeped out. Maybe. That would be swell.
I would eat them at a brunch.
And I would eat them for my lunch.
I would eat them with my cats.
And I would eat them wearing hats.
For a lark or in the park.
I’d even eat them in the dark.
I would eat them in my house.
I would eat them with your spouse.
I would eat green eggs and ham,
Choosy Beggar that I am.