The Time Is Right For Bacon and Egg Salad Sandwiches.

We are not a sandwich family.

While there’s no denying the convenience of eating right out of one’s hand (all hail the Earl of Sandwich), and while I do love me some Subway (ham and swiss on wheat with lettuce, banana peppers, black olives, pickles and mustard), I don’t know that I’ve ever  -- ever, ever, ever, -- set out to make a sandwich just for myself.  In fact, as I look over the 100+ recipes in Feminine Wiles, there’s only one sandwich recipe – for tuna salad (which is very, very good, but I'd just as soon eat with a fork).

The kids, I suspect, feel the same way about sandwiches.  Yes, I pack their lunches every day, but unless I insist on variety, it’s always the same:  peanut butter.  Not peanut butter and jelly (the classic).  Not peanut butter and banana (a Southern treat).  Not peanut butter and honey (my brother’s childhood favorite).  Not peanut butter and bacon (although knowing their fondness for bacon, that one’s a mystery). 

Just peanut butter.

However, knowing Son and Darling Daughter as I do, I’m betting many of those peanut butter sandwiches, lovingly made before they board the bus at 7:30 a.m., never make it past anyone’s lips.  At least not Son’s and Darling Daughter’s.  I know they’re not sandwich-eaters.  Likewise, I know what else is tucked in those lunch bags.  Fruit.  Oreos.  Pringles.  The occasional snack bag of M&Ms.  I’m just saying.

On Easter, though, I can’t help but think of sandwiches.  Egg salad sandwiches.  Which, as noted, go against everything I believe in. 

  

My mom’s husband insists that, if pimento cheese sandwiches and egg salad sandwiches (on white bread) were not served at your wedding reception, you are not, in fact, really married.  And before you even ask, yes -- both were on my wedding buffet 25 years ago.  Look, I’m not saying it’s guaranteed.  But it couldn’t hurt.

Still, I don’t like cold hard-boiled eggs – and have a particular suspicion for those that are garishly colored and retrieved during a “hunt.”  I can't abide the texture of boiled egg whites – there’s something decidedly “un-foodlike” about them.  I don’t trust mayonnaise, and in most cases, distrust people who do.  And didn't I mention?  I’m not a sandwich kind of girl.

But it’s Easter.  So I’m eating egg salad.  Carefully.

My own recipe -- very little mayonnaise, a little zip of whole grain mustard or horseradish, very finely chopped whites, fresh dill while I've got it, and just to mix it up -- bacon -- because as everybody knows, bacon makes everything better.  (Bacon Bloody Mary, anyone?)

And yes, if I ever re-married, you can bet there would be egg salad sandwiches.  Or, at least, egg salad on crackers.

Happy Easter, folks!

Bacon and Egg Salad Sandwiches

6 eggs

3-4 tablespoons mayonnaise

1 teaspoon (or more) whole grain Dijon mustard

¼ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon fresh dill, minced (optional)

3 strips bacon, fried until very crisp and chopped fine

fresh ground black pepper (lots)

Cook eggs.  Put eggs in pot and cover with cold water.  Bring to a boil.  Once boiling, reduce heat to a simmer and cook for five minutes.  Then, turn off heat, put lid on pot, and let rest for five additional minutes.  Drain and fill pan with cool water.  When eggs are somewhat cool, remove from pan and peel.  Cut peeled eggs in half and remove yolks to a medium-sized mixing bowl.  Finely chop egg whites.  Set aside.  Using a fork, mash the egg yolks, gradually stirring in mayonnaise, one tablespoon at a time.  Consistency should be very smooth.  Stir in salt, pepper, dill and bacon.  Finally, stir in egg whites.  Serve, chilled on toasted wheat bread or crackers, garnishing with additional dill and bacon, if desired.

Hi. I'm Cheri, and I'm Vitamin D Deficient

Here’s a poorly-concealed fact about me: I like to get things right.

Part of it is because I’m the oldest of three kids. A lot was expected of me and I’m here to tell you – I was eager to deliver.

When I say a lot was expected consider this: Mom began potty-training me at … don't even try to guess … three months. This, despite the fact that, according to my baby book, I couldn’t even sit up until a month later. That didn’t hold me back, of course. I was dry through the night before my first birthday. (Sure, other people might be reticent to boast about something they did 45 years ago, but not me. You know why? You betcha. 'Cause I got it right.)

No shock, then, that in school, I was that annoying kid who wanted to be an achiever. Don’t pretend you don’t know who that kid was in your class. Every grade had one, and if you can’t provide that kid’s first and last name and an embarrassing example of their unabashed, smarmy apple-polishing -- well then, I feel sorry for you. Take a gander in the mirror. Looks like you were that kid.

I haven’t been in a classroom for about 25 years now, but my need to succeed never faded. It’s a nasty trait, but it’s there when I’m cooking, when I’m driving, when I’m writing, when I’m training the dog and even when I’m folding laundry. I want to get things right. It even oozes over into areas of my life over which I have virtually no control.

I beam when a nurse reports that my blood pressure is “perfect.” Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be? My weight? Just fine. My temperature? A cool 98.4. Urinalysis? No problems whatsoever. My vision? Surprisingly (to everyone except me, of course) good.

So when my doctor recently told me it was time for a routine Vitamin D test, I was practically eager to hear the results.

To be sure, even during routine tests, it does occur to me that something could go wrong. What if -- for example -- my vision isn’t perfect:? And I have to get glasses? And because my new prescription glasses are delayed, I mistakenly deliver the kids to the wrong summer camp? And instead of sailing, they're taught to juggle and swing on a flying trapeze? And then, instead of returning home and running into my welcoming arms, they run away with the circus? Without their phone chargers? So they can’t even call me? And since I didn’t give them pre-addressed envelopes, they can’t write to me, either? Then what? Is it now my job to clean the cat litter boxes -- just because my eyesight faltered?

I digress.

Back to Vitamin D. Really. Are you kidding me?

Imagine my surprise when, a week later, my doctor mailed a letter telling me that my blood sugar is fine, my thyroid is 1.76 (apparently okey dokey), my CBC (sorry, I have no idea) is normal, my cholesterol is chockfull of the good, life-extending cholesterol, but I am Vitamin D deficient.

Deficient? Ouch. That hurts.

C’mon! Vitamin D? OK. It is true that I never drink milk except in the form of a venti, non-fat, no-foam chai from Starbucks. But as a baseball mom, I spend ample time in outdoors in the bleachers and get gracious plenty sun. Doesn't that help my body make its own D?

Panicked, I turned to my Mac keyboard and Googled “Vitamin D deficiency.”

Wheeeewwww. OK. I can breathe a little easier now. Looks like there’s no relationship between wine consumption and D deficiency. So plainly, it’s not my fault.

However, as it turns out, researchers are realizing that many, if not most, women are Vitamin D deficient. I also learn that Vitamin D deficiency can be a factor in many serious diseases, including cancer, heart disease, and most obviously, osteoporosis. And listen to these symptoms of deficiency: weak bones, low energy, symptoms of depression, mood swings and sleep irregularities.

I know, right? We all thought that was all just part and parcel of being me!

Treating a D deficiency is easy. I take a prescription supplement once a week for 12 weeks and will be re-tested in a year. Tah. Dah.

I’m also trying to eat more D-rich foods, including fortified orange juice and eggs. Embarrassingly, I still can’t force myself to choke down a glass of milk. However, my "deficiency" (which I now choose to embrace as a “quirk”) made it easy to render a quick “yes,” when Darling Daughter requested (D-rich) tuna sandwiches this weekend.

As I may have mentioned, I do like to get things right.

(To learn more about Vitamin D deficiencies, which may affect as many as 85% of American women, check this website, http://www.womentowomen.com/healthynutrition/vitamind.aspx)

Tuna Salad Sandwiches

When I was a kid, we stretched this recipe to make five sandwiches. I'm an adult now, and Chez Wiles, the same recipe makes two hearty sandwiches. On whole wheat bread, of course.
One can tuna, packed in olive oil, drained
1/4 onion, minced
1/2 large kosher pickle, cubed
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Generous grinding black pepper


In a medium mixing bowl, stir together drained tuna, celery, onion and pickle. Don't mash. Stir in lemon juice and mayonnaise. Season with salt and pepper and adjust seasoning as needed.