There's something about an egg. Apart from the fact that they come out of a birds bum that is. There is something wholesome and good about an egg, something noble and standout about one. "He's a good egg", you might have said in 1950, if referring to someone you liked or respected, and I think, yes, all the qualities of an egg are the ones I want in a friend. Singular in purpose, yet incredibly versatile, strong in some ways, terrible fragile in others and always able to surprise me. Not surprise me literally, I don't scream when ever I see one, but surprise me in just how good they can be, and particularly in their most simple guises.
Take a poached egg. Once you have figured out the slightly fernickerty process of making one, you have something magical. Be you a deep dish of water whizzing around at speed type person, your frantic spinning creating spheres of wobbly white with fondant yellow inside, or, the shallow pan of water type to make almost fried looking eggs, the addition of a poached egg to almost anything gives it a lift. A nice piece of smoked fish? Plop one on top. Some buttered spinach? Boom, eggs Florentine. Soup on a cold winters night? Suspend one in there for added comfort. Of course, just on a piece of toast with some bacon and mushrooms will do just as well. Breaking the yolk and watching that liquid gold spilling out over your toast is possibly one of the finest sights that a man can consider in the morning. One of them, mind, only one of them
There is something ever so slightly improbable about them. Something ever so slightly suspicious about the whole thing. I appreciate that in their primary role as reproductive vessels they are bound to contain stuff that is good to eat, stuff that is nutritious and energising; but being good to eat and then being able to turn into mayonnaise, cake or an omelette strikes me as showing off. If I didn't know better and was that way inclined I'd say someone had a hand in that particular venture. I'll avoid going any further with that particular line of thought before I start picketing school science buildings. Anyway, what am I getting at? You can't teach your grandmother to suck eggs. But she could probably teach you to make a kick ass souffle with them if only you shut up about the whole sucking thing and let her get to the kitchen.
6 comments:
And meringue! Eggs are amazing. And so cheap. Two eggs for dinner with some vegetables - its like a $2 meal.
Great post.
Maybe I am indeed living in the 1950's...
I think eggs are miraculous and I am very grateful to the person who invented them. Without the egg I'd be no where.
I finally posted my recipe for Eggbabies, speaking of, and I think I am on an egg roll as I have a few other eggy recipes up my sleeve for spring. Egg Time.
The other day Cranky was musing about how engineers find the egg to be a most ingeniously "designed" form of packaging. I stopped him and said "Do you know why eggs are shaped like that?" He said no. I said "Ask the hen. She has to lay them."
I had the yellowest farm-fresh eggs (laid this week) for breakfast yesterday and today. Scrambled with some prairie cheddar cheese (the best I've ever had), slow-cooked and glistening. Served with proper sourdough toast and butter. And today, with some bacon. Some GOOD bacon.
My joy in finding farms here who will sell eggs from happy, organic chickens—it's just so wonderful.
Eggs are beautiful.
Your post resonates, señor.
pretty amazing what one good egg for breakfast can do for the rest of the day. my latest fetish is the soft-boiled egg. poached in its self-contained unit. granted i can't break the yolk over toast, but it's less messy, i can dip toast into said yolk, and when it's the farm fresh stuff with the crayola-orange yolks, i totally dig it. but my favorite part? spoon-soft whites.
cool photo. damn it, i didn't have any breakfast.
can i fertalize your frckin eggs
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