Who doesn't love eggs? I mean so many of us, believe it or not, are defined by the way we like our eggs. Think about it. What kind of eggs did you grow up with? We always had a giant plate of eggs on the table when I was growing up. Mostly they were fried eggs. Sometimes they were eggs scrambled in egg plant. Sometimes they were scrambled hard with tomatoes and onions. No matter what day at my parents house, you could almost always guarantee, there are going to be eggs on the table.
The first thing I ever learned to cook was an egg. I stood on a chair with my grandmother supervising and I carefully flipped over an egg. Fried it and ate it. I was empowered. I can cook something by myself. I thought that if I only knew this one skill, how to cook an egg - I would never starve. Looking back, I did not think about how I would probably have high cholesterol. Who thinks of that as an eight-year old?
I moved out on my own. I had to cook my own eggs. There was no escaping this. After a few years and starving artist phases, the egg was tiresome daily and became a weekend luxury. Daily oatmeal or coffee-only breakfasts supplemented my years as a student on my own.
Now imagine dating. Judgement is cast upon the new beau. Will they take you out to eat your eggs? Will they expect you to make them their eggs? Will they cook your eggs for you? Better yet, can this person make your egg the way you like it? I will not admit the way to my heart is through my stomach, but this certainly did help the case.
Mostly, I am a fried egg person. Over medium well please, with a slight soft middle and slight hard outside. I know the egg is made the way I like it when there is a nice gradient of yellow in the middle. You see a pale yellow that evolves to a rich yellow in the center. now this, for me is a perfectly fried egg. This way, I can place it on a piece of toast with no major yolk mess, but still I get the creaminess of the center - not that hard boiled taste.
Now I look at the egg as a temperature gauge in mood. For my daughter, the day is off to a good start when she wants a fried egg on toast. Me, I am nostalgic when I crave an egg over medium mashed on top of rice. My husband, he is an omelette man, but he is not fussed with his egg as much as I am. My son, it is too soon to tell how he is with his eggs yet. He is only two. So right now, he is a scrambling man. My sister-in-law eluded to some tower of pancake, egg and bacon that suited her. She even described it, I recall, with a bit of a glisten in her eye.
All in all, we underestimate this work of art that nature has granted us. We should celebrate, if not rejoice, the wonders of this meal in a shell. We probably do not give a thought daily to the variety of ways to cook it, mix it, serve it. For me, I celebrate the incredible, edible egg - as the commercial goes. The egg, like a mood ring reflects my daily temperament. One can take this so far as to profile people based on their egg habits. More than anything, it is not just for breakfast. Imagine, there are probably many meals - breakfast, lunch, and dinner where we can identify egg integration.
For me. Simplicity. A fried egg please. Done to my astute specifications of course. What does that say about me? He, he.