Deviled Eggs

Author Notes

When I was in my early 20s I decided I wanted to be a professional cook. I took a six-month basic course and jumped into the fray. Somehow I managed to convince the then-popular Washington Square Bar & Grill to hire me as a pantry cook. I had little experience cooking and even less know-how about working in a kitchen dominated by good ‘ol boys and wise-cracking waiters. One of my weekly tasks was to peel a fresh horseradish root and grate it in the food processor. The cap that fit in the top was long gone so I’d stuff a napkin in there in an effort to diffuse the pungent odor of the horseradish. Even with the napkin, it was so strong it would make my eyes water and nose burn so I’d also wrap a towel around my face, bandit-style, and inevitably someone would walk by and pull it off, leaving me gasping for air. Ironically, until that time I’d never even tried horseradish. Outside of the horseradish cream I made at work, my first taste was in the most delicious Bloody Mary that has ever existed at the now-defunct Balboa Café in San Francisco. Soon after that, I discovered it as the key ingredient in my then-boyfriend’s mother’s recipe for devilled eggs. I became an instant devotee of devilled eggs and horseradish. I loved Pat’s recipe so much I converted it to egg salad, which is heavenly on toasted bread. This recipe is especially handy around Easter with all the hard-boiled eggs. And thankfully, it does not require fresh horseradish, an ingredient I still approach with trepidation. —Lori Lyn Narlock