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Deviled eggs. You either love ’em or you hate ’em. I am both feet in on the former.
I remember the first time I had one. It was one of those bustling church picnics where everyone brings a blanket and a pot luck dish and there’s children and ants running around everywhere. My sisters dared me to try it, and by the looks of it, I proceeded with extreme caution and suspicion. (Some of the things my sisters dared me try to weren’t exactly in my best interest. Bless their hearts.)
But it was love at first bite. And the rest is history.
My husband prefers the classic rendition – a hint of celery salt, a bit of mayo and mustard, a splash of vinegar, and a dash of paprika.
That’s fine and all.
But I say live a little. continue reading