January 29, 2011 § 2 Comments
Actually it’s not quite that dramatic. But all the same you’re about to learn something about me that
not many people only one person knows. Really he’s been very good about not telling anyone my deep, dark secret… at least not that I’m aware of.
I can not, for the life of me, make an egg any way other than scrambled.
I can hear the collective foodie gasp now – “How can this be?”.
I’m actually really bad at pancakes too. (One confession per bottle of wine is probably enough.)
I’ve been cooking for the better part of 12 years – both professionally and at home – so this is a little embarrassing. In fact (getting even more honest here) NPC can make a better fried egg than I can! The nerve!
That was until last weekend when I decided to make some breakfast and I got really, really, really mad.
I’m up early enough to hear some birds chirping which rarely happens on a weekend. I sit up in bed thinking about what I want to do that day and it hits me – like a lightening bolt or that little cartoon light bulb that goes off over someone’s head – I just bought a carton of eggs. I need to make breakfast!
There isn’t much breakfast eating in my household as it’s only NPC and myself and our furry one and most of the time we’re in a rush to get out the door – or sleeping through the breakfast hours of the day.
Regardless I got up, put on some socks and sauntered downstairs (turning up the heater as I walked by it of course). Into the cabinets I went looking for my Teflon pan (which only ever sees daylight when I’m making something like an egg or a pancake). I couldn’t find it – not unusual – because my cabinets are anything but neat and organized. So I grabbed my wonderful, lovely non-coated Cuisinart frying pan and took a deep breath. It’ll have to do.
Gathering up the necessary ingredients – butter and eggs – I proceeded to heat up the pan.
First mistake: Not enough butter. So the egg stuck to the pan.
Second mistake: Pan was too hot.
At this point I’m fuming, muttering things that should never be muttered so early in the morning, if at all, and wondering why I even woke up in the first place. Stupid eggs.
So here comes Egg #3. I’m thinking… “Enough is enough!” I need to get this egg in the pan, cook it and get it out.
Third mistake: I used a spatula and the yolk broke.
Spitting mad I toss the pan in the sink, give a very thankful dog named Lily the failed attempts and start to head back upstairs – utterly defeated.
Then it hits me. The Teflon pan.
With a newfound confidence I search far and wide and finally come across the pan. I’m on a mission at this point. I get the eggs and the butter and stand there for a moment in silent contemplation. I hear NPC sauntering around upstairs and think – this is it! I’m doing this!
So I put
a heart attack’s worth about 3 Tbsp of butter into the pan and let it get a little bubbly and cross my fingers. I crack the egg into the pan. There’s no turning back now. I stare intensely as the edges start to bubble with the butter and watch as it takes form into a fried egg. But how to I turn the damn thing over?! Spatulas=Death. So I bite my bottom lip, pick up the frying pan and with a flick of my wrist I flip the egg in one, solid motion. It lands, in tact, back onto the pan.
I start screaming and jumping! “I did it! I did it! I fried an egg! Nat come look at this – it’s perfect!” The dog is staring at me with her head cocked slightly to the left but at that point I don’t care because for the very first time in my life I’ve fried a perfect egg.
And it tasted good too.
So there it is. I can tell you my secret because it’s no longer my dirty little secret. I beat that skeleton right out of the
Victory is mine. Truly it was egg-cellent work. xo