It's amazing how the strangest foods are the ones that make me the most amazingly homesick for a place. During my two years in Boston I desperately longed for pickled red beet eggs. Sure, I missed them when I lived in Philly but I could always make a little trip to the Amish stand at Reading Terminal Market on Arch Street to pick up an egg and maybe some shoo-fly pie. Boston had no such secret spot, and I haven't found one in New York City either.
Today I went to a family reunion picnic in Lancaster County, and I knew some little grey haired lady was bound to bring some homemade red beet eggs. Of course I was super excited when two showed up eggs and beets in tow. No wonder a strange food makes me so homesick... they're always there when the family is gathering for summer meals and picnics. The deep fuchsia of the eggs are just about the prettiest thing on the table, and my favorite part is always when you get through to the yolk and find the yummy orange bits where the beet's pink juice mixes with the yellow of the yolk.