Everyone has a a weird food thing. A strange combination that makes the best snack. Eating candies in order of colour. An insistence that food items cannot touch on your plate. A food they cannot bear to eat.
Here’s mine: I cannot eat eggs.
I’m not allergic, but I can’t even fathom the thought of eating an egg. I can’t remember ever eating a breakfast-style egg. I must have had a really bad experience when I was a baby before my memory kicked in. My parents never pushed eggs on me, so maybe they remember the experience I don’t. (Remind me to ask my mom sometime.) I have no problem eating eggs in baked treats (cookies, cakes etc.) or in pad Thai, but when I went to try Sean’s omelet at home one night, I took a miniscule piece that fit on my baby fingernail – and couldn’t bear to put it in my mouth.
Don’t offer to pay for my breakfast buffet at a restaurant – that money is generally wasted on me as I avoid all of the dishes involving eggs.. I love a good Sausage-only McMuffin though.
When I tell this story to people I know, the part that really shocks them is when I tell them I had to read my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook (the cookbook that covers the basics in my house) to figure out how to make omelets. And maybe scrambled eggs. Sean had a hankering for some eggs and neither one of us had cooked them ourselves. Me due to the yuck-factor and Sean because his mom always cooked for him growing up.
I realize I’m probably missing out. I know eggs are a nutritional powerhouse and that they are more than a breakfast food. I like the idea of eggs – their convenience and versatility appeal to a slacker cook such as myself. It’s just that the thought of actually eating an egg that is not folded into a baked treat grosses me the fuck out. I’ve cooked eggs here and there over the years for Sean (and Flora – don’t want to pass down my neuroses!) but I don’t ever sample the dish and I just hope I’ve cooked them right.
I’m not sure if this is something I’ll get over during my lifetime. Here’s hoping that Sean gets the hang of cooking the breakfast eggs on the weekends. It seems unwholesome to have someone cook food that they would never eat themselves.