E Does Eggs

Some people use the word ‘hate’ to the point of lessening its true meaning. “I hate scary movies” or “I hate cats” usually doesn’t convey any sort of intensity with an aversion to the genre or the mammal; it’s simply become a replacement for the word ‘dislike.’

Having said that, let me be clear about one thing: I LOATHE eggs.

It hasn’t always been this way, mind you. I can remember loving scrambled eggs when I was little; my mom would make them with butter and salt and I looked forward to eating them.

All this changed one bleak day when I was four years old. The preschool I went to served lunch to its students, and the main dish presented was one that would genuinely affect the next twenty-two years of my life: egg salad sandwiches. I’ve talked to people about the curious nature of serving a large group of three to six year olds egg salad sandwiches, and even those who love them agree that most kids are pretty damn picky when it comes to their lunch options. Egg salad is not for everybody, even some egg lovers.

But I digress. Sitting there, in that classroom, with that sandwich looking up at me, I was certain this was not going to end well. The teacher in the room was a big, Texan redhead named Ginny (we called her “Big Ginny” as my sister also has that name, not because she was, in fact, big) and she believed if something was in front of you, you eat it. I was primed to sit there for the entire lunch hour and do exactly the opposite of that (which I had successfully done with other teachers in the past), but something about her honestly intimidated me, and my friends were trying to convince me they were delicious.

So I took a bite.

And immediately threw up.

Dramatization courtesy of Sailor Moon

For almost ten years after this incident, even smelling the sulphuric tinge of hardboiled eggs would induce my gag reflex. My stomach has since strengthened, but the Egg Salad Incident of 1988 not only made me swear off eggs completely, it also made Easter a particularly difficult holiday to handle. 

I realize what many of you are thinking because I’ve dealt with this reaction for over two decades. “You hate eggs?! How can you hate eggs?!” Unfortunately, my aversion to the incredible edible is so strong now that it’s more of a phobia, and less of an actual dislike. This does not bode well for someone who loves to eat and experience new dishes because eggs come up across the board in almost every international cuisine available. I mean, seriously… Find me a culture that doesn’t use it. I dare you.

So this year I turned a corner and decided to get over my fear and try to reestablish a taste for them. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves; I will never eat or enjoy hardboiled eggs. Ever.

That’s just one bridge this girl isn’t prepared to cross.

The family I married into, that is to say, Lindsay’s family, loves eggs and has been overly accommodating to my aversion for the entirety of the eight years I’ve known them. Knowing a blogging opportunity when we see one, we decided to cover my reintroduction, and Lindsay excitedly came up with a recipe she thought I’d enjoy. We both agreed scrambled eggs would be the best dish to start with, as it was something I knew I had once liked. Also, it incorporated goat cheese and fresh herbs, two ingredients I hands down love. There was work to be done on both sides: cooking accomplished by Linds, calming of nerves and anxiety by me.

The morning I tried eggs for the first time in twenty-two years came quicker than I had hoped. Lindsay furiously chopped, whipped the eggs into a frenzy and heated the pan. I sat at the kitchen counter, simultaneously proud of and kicking myself for agreeing to try them. I’m not kidding when I tell you everyone gathered ‘round to watch me take a bite and see my reaction. It smelled good, it looked good, so why not? It was a foot in the direction of overcoming by fear and hatred. I lifted my fork and took a bite.

And they weren’t half bad.


I don’t want to lie to you and tell you it was a “Sam I Am” moment, because there was no sudden love or passion for them within me. There is a caveat to this statement, though, and it’s that I’m sure if I liked eggs, Linds’ version would be one I requested again and again. It’s just hard to go wrong with fresh herbs and goat cheese.

I would also be lying if I said I’ve craved them since. Baby steps, my friends, baby steps. However, I have ordered an omelette at a restaurant and split one recently with a good friend. I no longer pull the bits of egg out of my fried rice, either.

My relationship with eggs is still a distrustful and shaky one, but I feel we are closer to a truce and that a friendship in the future is possible.

Happy Eating,

Elizabeth

Scrambled Eggs with Herbes Fines and Goat Cheese

4 eggs

pinch of salt

Couple grinds of fresh ground pepper

2 springs rosemary, finely chopped

3 sprigs thyme, finely chopped

bunch of chives, finely chopped

1 tablespoon of butter

2-3 ounces goat cheese

Heat a medium, non-stick pan over medium heat. While the pan is heating, crack all the eggs into a bowl and whisk lightly. Add the salt, pepper and herbs to the eggs and stir to combine. 

Cut goat cheese into small pieces, set aside. Add butter to pan until melted, then add eggs. Let the eggs cook in the pan until the bottom of the eggs are cooked, about one minute. As they start to cook, you will see curds form at the bottom. Using a spoon or spatula, gently lift these curds to the top to allow the uncooked egg to flow beneath. As it cooks more, it will be more a matter of lifting and folding, rather than stirring them briskly.  When the eggs are still wet and not totally set, add the goat cheese.  

It should just be slightly melted and soft, not completely mixed into the eggs. When the eggs are almost set (still a little wet looking), remove them from the pan, as they will cook a little more on their own. Serve with good toast. Serves two.




Going back for seconds!