As we bear down on an early Easter, thoughts turn family holiday diners, candy treats, and Peeps.
Family holiday diners, which start with fond memories and high hopes... turn to crap.
Gaily decorated baskets of candy and treats, turn to tummy aches... then turn to crap.
Peeps… well they don’t turn at all, because they are crap.
And of course Easter Eggs.
Not the kind nerds/geeks leave in electronic programs for their kind to titter over twitter about.
Nope, real bird eggs dyed or painted, to be gifted or hidden by the Easter Bunny.
In Eastern Europe, Easter Eggs are serious business, producing real works of art to be given as gifts.
The Russian Czar, being Eastern European, having a couple of bucks, and being too lazy for
that tedious egg painting, hired somebody to do it for him... a guy named Fabergé.
1885 in Russia…And You, Are There…[/Cronkite]
Alexander: Fab baby, whip up an egg for Czarina, I need that, man, or she’ll be all over my shit.
Fabergé : OK Alexander, but I’m no shopkeeper, this’ll cost you big time.
Alexander: I don’t care, without it I’ll get no punani till the Reindeer come home… Oh, and call me Al.
Quote:
Following instructions from the Emperor himself, Fabergé designed a beautiful white enamel egg
that looked like a real egg, but when opened, revealed a golden yolk inside. Within the yolk
was a golden hen, and concealed within the hen was a diamond miniature of the royal crown and
a tiny ruby egg. Empress Maria was so delighted by the gift that Alexander appointed Fabergé
a "goldsmith by special appointment to the Imperial Crown" and instructed him to create
a new Easter egg every year, and a tradition was born.
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Each year the eggs got more elaborate(expensive), with Fabergé and his unindicted co-conspirators
working in complete secrecy for several months every year.
In my youth it was hard boiled(mostly
) chicken eggs, with a couple of excursions into blown egg shells.
They were dyed with food coloring or store bought RIT egg dye kits whose tablets didn't want to dissolve.
The kits had the wire thing to hold the egg while you accumulated extensive knowledge of what
color combinations resulted in the most disgusting, unappetizing colors.
In the mid '70s wife 2.0 and I went to my folks for Easter. On arrival, my mother announced she had
boiled the eggs, and It was my job to color them. Sure Mom, there's nothing I'd love more after working
all day then driving 300 miles through constipated NJ/NY/CT holiday traffic.
Turned out the eggs were hard boiled... except the yolks. We brought them home with us where Moi
got a brilliant idea. Peel off the hideous shells and pop the yolky eggs into our newly acquired microwave
for a couple minutes. Worked like a charm, looked good, nice and warm, except when I bit into it that
sumbitch went off like a roadside bomb. Accelerated microwave learning curve.
Sigh, at least there was no Peeps.
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