Which is why I didn’t take any pictures today.
However, there was one thing that I thought I might like to share, and that was the awesome eggs I made this morning for breakfast. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t necessarily the exception either. Not that I’d want to boast or anything, but breakfast is one of my specialties.
No really. Ask the kids. Ask T.C. Ask any of the folks who came to visit when we lived in Europe.
Even though I called it, “Bob’s Bed and get your own Breakfast”, I’d always relent and make breakfast for our guests.
Or better yet, just take my word for it.
But that’s beside the point.
I give you, the perfect eggs. The toast is only there to take up room on the plate.
I probably should have used a coloured plate, but then that would have meant having some sort of plan. Or something.
But this egg theme makes me think of a little story, and it involves eating in restaurants and hoping to get a decent breakfast. It doesn’t always happen. But you may already know this.
Typically, in most European hotels at least, they have some sort of buffet type spread put out, and you go and help yourself. Once in a while though, you find yourself in a place where they might have certain items out, but then they’ll ask if you’d like to perhaps have a couple eggs? Of course, there follows that brief moment of excitement, when you think that maybe, just maybe there’s been some sort of “communication breakthrough” or something, and that you might actually get a couple fried eggs.
And, AND have them prepared “over easy”.
Let me just dispel any grandiose expectations you might have right here and now. It aint’ gonna happen.
I tried it a couple times in Austria, and just figured I wasn’t explaining it well enough.
I mean, I have a fairly decent grasp on the German language and all, but explaining “over easy” is a bit of a challenge, I’ll admit. So fine, it never did really happen, and I ate my eggs “sunny side up”, with the bottoms over cooked and all crusty like. Gah!
‘Cause let’s face it, at a certain point in time, you’re just too damned hungry to start sending stuff back to the kitchen.
Well, I might only be speaking for myself here, but I think you can relate.
So, at one point in time, we find ourselves in Birmingham (and no, not the one in Alabama either), and the young waiter asks me if I’d like a couple eggs from the kitchen? Seeing as I had just seen a van pull up from one of the local chicken establishments to deliver eggs I figured, “Hell yes!”. Because at least the eggs will be fresh.
Besides, I thought that, beens we wuz all speakin’ English, getting a couple eggs “over easy” should be a slam dunk, right? There was of course, the in-depth explanation, followed by a knowing nod. I still remember that moment of, well I’d almost call it excitement, waiting for those “over easy” eggs.
I was sure it was going to happen this time.
I think you already know how this turns out though.
This was in England, after all. Have you ever seen what they eat for breakfast? *shudder*. You think they have a clue how to fry an egg? Let alone the highly developed skill involved when trying to do “over easy”?
Nope, same damned crusty on the bottom runny on top eggs.
I ate them.
By that point I was too hungry to quibble. I’m sure they thought they had made some huge steps on the culinary end of things, but I didn’t have the heart (or stomach) to say otherwise.
But their eggs sucked just as badly as any that I had had over “on the continent”.
That’s the term they use for the rest of Europe, by the way.
May your eggs always be (slightly) runny. And not crusty on the bottom.
Hope you had a good weekend.
Thanks for stopping by.