I have an uneasy alliance with eggs. I eat them if I cook them at home. I will order fried eggs or a cheese omelet in a restaurant, but I’m unable to eat them if they’re even slightly slimy or they get cold. I won’t eat eggs if they taste “funny” or make my mouth feel weird.
I abandoned soft boiled eggs once I was old enough to make my own breakfast. Poached eggs are okay. Eggs Benedict is too expensive to order when I’m out, and I’m never brave enough to try making a Hollandaise sauce on my own. Scrambled eggs I would never eat voluntarily under any circumstances. I blame it on university cafeteria food. Sitting in a metal container underneath heat lamps waiting until the bin needs to be refilled doesn’t make for an appetizing dish (in my opinion).
But for the past two weeks, my existing teeth problems became much worse. I’ve had difficulty chewing food. After a liquid diet of soup, eggnog and the odd milkshake, I craved “real” food. Internet searches for foods one can eat with bad teeth all turned up scrambled eggs in their top ten.
Today, I finally took the plunge. I beat the eggs with milk; added tomato and cheese; melted butter in the pan on low heat; poured the mixture into the frying pan; seasoned with oregano, pepper, cayenne pepper and a pinch of garlic powder. When it started to set, I used a spatula to break up the mixture into curds.
When the eggs were done, they turned out to have a bit more liquid in them than they probably should have; I think it was because of the tomato. But they weren’t rubbery and they tasted pretty good (if I may say so myself).
I set the patio table, brought out the scrambled eggs, added coffee and juice and sat looking out at English Bay while eating Sunday brunch on my balcony. I must confess, it was the happiest I’d been all week.