“I’ll have eggs this morning, mommy,” Thalia said.
To most moms, scrambled eggs would be a welcome break from, say, more a more work-intensive blueberry pancakes request, especially on a weekday. But, no. The thought of making eggs strikes terror in my heart knowing that one room over, snoring gently, is the culinary school-pedigreed fella who uses one of my past attempts at scrambled eggs as comedy fodder.
Evidently they weren’t seasoned. The pan wasn’t hot enough. The oil wasn’t copious enough. And okay, so the smell was pretty awful. What can I say, I generally don’t eat scrambled eggs myself. And indeed, I’ve let my cooking skills atrophy so long as there’s been someone around to do it for me. Kind of the same way Nate has unlearned the skill that enables one to put worn boxers in the hamper and not on the hamper?
But this morning I was determined to do right by my daughter. I preheated the pan. I chose a good oil. I beat the eggs first. I seasoned them only with a little salt and pepper and NO HERBS as requested. I didn’t overcook them. And the smell…nonexistent. I was so proud of myself.
“So?” I asked Thalia eagerly. “How are your eggs?”
“They taste like…nothing,” she said flatly.
“What? No! They’re delicious! They taste like eggs! Yum yum yum! With just salt and pepper, as you said!”
“They taste like nothing.”
She woke her daddy up a few moments later.
“Mommy made me eggs. They taste like nothing.”
Behold! The early morning smirk of condescension! My favorite of all the early morning smirks.
“FINE,” I said defensively. “If you want me to make eggs a certain way Nate, you’re going to have to show me exactly what you do because I swear I did exactly what you told me.”
I repeated my recipe to him and he smiled.
“That’s not what I do,” he said.
And then he explained his Eggs That Taste Like Something recipe:
Olive oil. Sesame oil. Seasoned salt. Cracked pepper. Herbs (despite the prostests).
I give up.
Thalia was cuddling up to me as I was about to publish this post. “I’m writing about the time I made eggs that taste like nothing and daddy made you eggs that taste like something,” I explained.
“Both of those things are true,” she said.