Egg Salad Angst

Egg salad screams of ladies’ luncheons and soda fountains.

Pimento and cheese once simpered in such situations, but thanks to a Southern machismo ethic that makes eating a white bread Vidalia onion sandwich dribbling Duke’s mayo over the kitchen sink a valid display of white collar masculinity. P&C is even found served in micro-breweries where it’s paired with an unassuming yet authoritative amber larger and baked parsnip chips.

Still and all, the South is nothing if not traditional, and while egg salad might certainly be served on pumpernickel at some happy hour buffet in a Pensacola leather bar, for the most part it endures as a staple on occasions with a heavy distaff attendance such as christenings, weddings, and those endless, inevitable funerals.

Though I’m certain some misguided, unbalanced, and violently boring individuals make egg salad with scrambled eggs, the rest of us use whole boiled eggs peeled and mashed (swear to God I knew a gal who used a baby food jar) with Blue Plate mayonnaise to bind.

I like it on the chunky side. Add chopped black olives, finely-chopped celery, and green onion. A dash of vinegar gives it bite, and a little olive oil is a nice touch. Top with ground black pepper, and serve on rye toast with Pilsner, not lager, you knuckle-dragging Neanderthal.