A new perspective on eggs

I have always been a scrambled eggs person, no question.

When I was a child, my mom made scrambled eggs by whisking eggs in a bowl with a little milk, pouring it into a buttered skillet and a few stirs later, it was ready to go. Once in a while, such as Easter, we'd go the hard-boiled egg route (where I'd eat the whites, my sister the yellows) or we'd place egg slices on top of a slice of rye bread slathered in mayo. We had the niftiest egg slicer contraption in those days that I thought was the coolest thing as a kid. When I studied abroad in London, I hated all the food except for the egg salad sandwiches I bought down the street from my flat. I ate one of those every other day. But for the most part we were a scrambled eggs kind of family.

Dan is a scrambled egg person, too, so I have continued the tradition, making scrambled eggs for us nearly every Saturday. When I lived in the dorm, I ate scrambled eggs. When we go out for brunch or to a diner for breakfast, I eat scrambled eggs. I never consider ordering eggs any other way. When I think eggs, I think scrambled.

The rare occasion I did try making eggs any other way were not successful. I can recall the first and only omelet I've ever made--a mushy mess of eggs, tomato and spinach--that went into the trash can after a few bites. Once in a while, I will order an omelet in a restaurant just because I can't make it myself, but mostly I just get the scrambled.

Until yesterday, where I made fried eggs from my Cooking School Handbook. (I must admit, I felt a little ridiculous reading a recipe for eggs--but this book has 22 pages devoted to the topic). I might have made fried eggs before, it not being a memorable experience that I am not entirely sure when, but somehow it was different last night. The first one was so sinfully easy, and plated on top of a tortilla and salsa, it was downright delicious. I made another, this time the yolk wasn't so runny and I didn't even need the other accompaniments--just a pinch of salt and I ate it quickly and joyfully. The third time, I flipped the egg over to make it "over easy," and this, my friends, taught me something about myself.

I like my eggs over easy. Thirty years of my life gone by, I didn't know.

Who knows what will happen when I learn to poach?