Source | Design and Photography by Michelle Min @ Touch.Taste.Design.
He started at the edges. With each bite he’d carefully dissect away the whites until all that was left on the entire plate were two bright golden disks. With a big grin and knowing glance, in a single bite, all at once. . . POP! Echos of giggles and “ewws” were heard in tandem as yolk often found itself drip-dropping into his full grey beard.
I wish I would have thought to ask my grandpa if he really enjoyed egg yolks that much, or if it was simply getting a reaction out of everyone that drove this funny little habit of his.
. . . .
Some dreams you remember vividly. You can recite the details in the morning as though it were the plot of that movie you’ve seen hundreds of times. This doesn’t happen to me often, but in one of the more random instances. . .
There was a stampede of jungle animals coming down the street in front of my parent’s house Jumanji style. Out of nowhere, a person wearing a bear suit demanded that I make eggs benedict lest we get trampled by the approaching herds. I had no clue how to poach an egg let alone make hollandaise sauce. The recurring dream always ended badly. Somehow no one got hurt, but my childhood home would be flattened and I’d be quite embarrassed at my lack of egg preparation abilities.
. . . .
Scrambled, always scrambled. Whether at home or eating out, that’s how I take my eggs, preferably with a healthy sprinkling of cheese. No sunny side up, over easy or fried for me.
I’m not certain why, but for most of my life I’ve been yolk averse. Sure, I’d have a bite of other’s breakfast here and there, and it’s not that I found it repulsive, but I never changed my ways. Old habits die hard or just foolish?
. . . .
As recently as the last couple months I’ve seen the glorious golden light that is the egg yolk. The sublime silky center that I was all too quick to scramble in the past. Holy hell had I been missing out. On top of sweet potatoes and pulled pork, on the side of my bacon and tomatoes, poached, soft boiled, or over medium on toast. . . I’ll take my eggs up, please.