scrambled
For dinner tonight I made myself scrambled eggs. I haven’t had eggs in some time—not sure why—but I had been craving scrambled eggs on wheat toast all week. Today I finally got out the old frying pan.
I made scrambled eggs for my exboyfriend one time (not ex at the time, obviously), and he gave me crap about not using milk. Milk? What? In my household (which is of course the best household), scrambled eggs are made with eggs, cheese, and, on special occasions, linguica. Instead of breaking up with him on the spot for his absurd comment, I decided to consult the bible, aka Ms. Crocker. What do you know? Betty uses milk! Turns out I am fallible.
Even in my superior household, there is a split on the doneness of scrambled eggs. Dad’s eggs are firm but soft, and Mom’s eggs are fluffy but dry, often starting to turn brown in places. Mom’s eggs are, of course, the best.
It’s really a matter of taste, I suppose. I still make my scrambled eggs without milk—just eggs and cheese. How about you?
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