Monday, March 27, 2006

Eggs, it's what's not for lunch

I decided on Sunday that I wanted to boil some eggs for making egg salad, adding to a chicken Caesar salad, etc. I put six eggs into a pot of boiling water and waited. I asked my mom how long I should wait and she said four minutes (if this sounds horribly off please forgive her, as I have, as she was deliriously ill and registering a .10% cough syrup level in her system). After four minutes I took one egg out and conducted the highly scientific egg doneness test of spinning it on the counter. RPMs seemed high enough so I called the eggs done.

I left them to cool until 10:30 pm that night when I retrieved one for making my sandwich. I cracked the egg on the counter while thinking of how much I really enjoy peeling the egg shell off of the cooked egg. This one was coming off rather messy though in chips, rather than the large pieces I am accustomed to. The egg itself felt weird and rubbery. While attempting to peel off one particularly difficult shard I broke the egg open and discovered that the yolk was runny. I figured that all the eggs were probably in the same state.

It was getting late, I wanted to go to bed, and I had french running through my head as a result of some cramming for my speaking test today. I did not want to boil another pot of water to attempt to re-cook the remaining five eggs. I did however really want an egg salad sandwich for lunch and quite frankly didn't have anything else to take. So I took the pot, filled it with water, put the eggs back in, and popped them in the microwave.

Now I know eggs and microwaves don't really go together well. If you're doing eggs in the mikey you usually need a special dish, a certain method. I figured that because the eggs would be floating in the bath of hot water that they would not be at risk for exploding and blowing the door off. Well I was right about that part at least.

After some time in the microwave I removed the eggs, dumped out the water and poured cold water over top. Feeling rather impatient (and that is a characteristic I will fully own up to) I decided to crack one open. Crack. Peel. BOOM!

Like the bomb diffuser who had mistakenly cut the wrong wire, I apparently removed the wrong area of shell at the wrong time, which literally resulted in me having egg on my face. And on the window. And the cupboards. Possibly the neighbour's mailbox.

I blinked a few times and thanked my lucky stars that I did not lose an eye. I think my first thoughts were "shit these are new contacts, I better not have egg embedded in them".

I examined what was left of the egg, it looked salvageable. Dumped it into a bowl. And then I decided to try another egg. This one didn't explode but it oozed a brown liquid from the centre. The yolk was burnt and it smelled horrendously. It looked like a Fear Factor challenge. I tried another egg, same thing. I cracked them all open and then tossed them. I gagged my way through making a veggie sandwich. I could not get that smell and the image of the brown ooze out of my head. I may never be able to look at another egg without feeling a wave of nausea.

So needless to say, I don't think I can move out of my mother's nest until I learn how to boil an egg without it blowing up in my face.

Next time I do something profoundly intelligent I think I'll post about that. I must redeem myself.

Originally published March 27-06 on ajillstory

1 comment:

Jill Barrott said...

Yesterday my mom mused that she should make turkey noodle soup with the leftover turkey carcus. I said, hey, I should do it and then I can post it on the cooking blog! Then I said, wait, what if I screw it up? I can't have THREE bad cooking posts on there. She said, how can you screw up soup? I said, mom, I'm the girl who messed up boiling eggs. She still laughs until she cries when I bring that story up.

Look for my turkey soup post in the next week or so.