Sunday, July 19, 2009


Today I returned home from morning minyan to find She Who Must Be Obeyed jonesing for an Eggy Breakfast.

This is strange, as anyone who knows SWMBO will attest. She is not a fan of the Cackleberry by any stretch of the imagination.

She will happily eat egg whites all day... and she has no problem eating dishes that incorporate whole eggs, as long as they are well-disguised. It’s the yolks she has an issue with.

Imagine my astonishment, then, when she commenced to boiling up a handful of hard-cooked eggs. Good Gawd! Was the Earth going to fall off its axis?

The perfect hard-cooked egg, by the way, is easy to prepare - and yet, so few people get it right. What you want to do is place the eggs in a saucepan and cover with cold water. Place the pan over a high flame and bring to a rolling boil. Turn the heat down to a low boil, cover and cook for ten minutes. As soon as the eggs are finished, dump out the boiling water and run cool water over the eggs to stop the cooking process. Your eggs will be easy to peel, will have perfectly cooked yolks - not runny, not dry and grainy - and the yolks won’t have that nasty-looking green surface.

So here the Missus is with a clutch of gorgeous hard-boiled eggs... the whites of which she proceeded to eat, leaving the yolks behind. [Amazingly, the Mistress of sarcasm and I prevailed upon her to taste a wee bit of yolk, but that is as far as we got.] Then, for sheer perversity’s sake, she took the remaining eggs and deviled them. Not that she intended to eat the deviled eggs, mind you. She just was in a devilish mood.

I had a couple of those deviled eggs. Not bad at all. And I even improved upon ’em by replacing half of the deviled yolk mixture with a spoonful of SWMBO’s freshly-made guacamole. Green eggs without the ham!

As for me, I took three eggs, a dab of milk, a small onion, half of an avocado, and a handful of chopped cilantro and made myself an omelette.

Avocado Omelette
Avocado omelette with caramelized onions and cilantro.

There is something about the aroma of eggs and caramelized onions cooked in butter that penetrates directly to my reptilian hindbrain, calling forth deeply-buried memories of childhood. I can almost see my Grandma Shirley of blessèd memory, standing over the stove as she made my favorite Sunday-morning breakfast: scrambled eggs and onions. She would fry those onions until they were blackish-brown, then stir in the eggs and cook the whole mess down until it became a sort of Jewish ambrosia. My version was, alas, a lot more frou-frou... but it hit all the right buttons.

Flavor. Nostalgia. Now I’m ready to take on the whole hard-boiled world.

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