Easter Eve ...
And so yesterday, Easter Eve, upon seeing images in my Facebook feeds of egg-dyeing events about to take place, I was feeling a little nostalgic.
There was a time when I loved cellophane Easter grass, but only the green. Yellow and pink offended me. I was a very literal child.
Thinking back, the thing I loved most about cellophane grass was that, invariably, some jelly beans sank through it to the bottom of my Easter baskets, so even when it looked like all the treats were gone, I usually found a few stray beans after the fact.
Now, though, I see cellophane Easter grass and lament the extra burden to landfills. I am such a killjoy grownup.
Also, I've never been a huge fan of bright colors. I'm more about muted shades. So it didn't take a lot of thought to decide that this year's Easter grass would be played by the part of kraft paper put through my shredder.
For color, wine seemed the most likely choice. I looked up how to use wine to dye eggs. One site provided a recipe of water and vinegar and wine – OK, makes sense – then instructed that the egg cooking happen in a non-metal pot.
So I should use what? A cardboard pot? A hologram pot?
I presume the author's point was that glass or ceramic was in order, but I don't own a glass or ceramic pot.
So I found another recipe, which amounted to: boil the eggs in wine.
I checked the color every so often then turned off the heat and let them cool in the wine a bit and then I used two spoons to lift them out of the liquid, let it drain a bit, then transfer them to a wire rack set over some paper towels.
When they were dry, I set them in my kraft-paper-filled silver dish, more nest than basket.
And I shan't eat them, of course, but I will crack one open at some point to see what happened inside.