Now, if you're me, then your confit is done right about now. If not, I'd wait for that. The confit is actually best if you let it hang out in the fat for a week or so, but I'm waaaay too impatient.
Keep your confit in a warm oven, along with your plates and pretzels, while you work on your hollandaise and eggs. I'm using Julia Child's Hollandaise recipe in this one, so if you want the ingredients, they're there.
Now first, cut your habaneros. Cover hands in plastic bags, viciously wash everything the peppers come into contact with with soap. Scrub more. These guys are most definitely not to be fucked with, hombre. Do not touch your penis after touching habanero.
Dice them up nice and fine. I used about 1/3 of a habanero, because Lucifer likes it hot. Start sauteeing them in your butter. Skim the foamy milk solids from your butter, then fish out some/all of the pepper, if you're a pussy. Remove from heat after a satisfactory sautee.
Now you want to look over the hollandaise recipe again before you do this. Done? OK, take your pretzel, cover in flaky, amazing duck goodness on plate. Throw back in oven.
Juice lemon, put in blender. Separate egg yolks. Throw yolks in blender.
Now throw in salt, pepper and about a teaspoon of paprika to blender. Get your butter going on medium-high heat until it's hot and bubbling. Then pour butter into blender, which is on the floor because the outlets are so far from the counter. The blender should be on medium-high blendiness. Cover.
Blend for a bit, checking on thickness. I wanted Satan Sauce to be nice and thick (insert joke here). While you're blending, get your water boiling for poached eggs. When done blending, put blender container in pot of warm water.
Poach egg. I use the "add vinegar, then swirl water into vortex, drop egg from ramekin to center of vortex. Use spoon to keep everything together" technique here. Poach it soft.
Then, fish poached egg out of pot with a spoon and spatula, because you don't own a slotted spoon. Also, add avocado slices and fresh cilantro. Top with Habanero Hollandaise. Now behold, ye mortals: The Devil's Eggs.
Holy fuck were they good.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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