Ode to the Egg

Lately, my lunch has been pretty predictable: grapes, cottage cheese, some crackers, a few slices of cheese and a hardboiled egg. If I’m feeling bold, I’ll make the egg into an egg salad sandwich. But I’m bold less often than not.

This morning I was making lunches and realized we were out of hardboiled eggs.

All day.

All day.

I have been thinking about that egg.

On my drive home I dreamed of many dinner menus involving eggs. Infront of the fridge I was so happy to indulge my craving. I gathered the following:

• mixed greens
• red, orange and green peppers
• cucumbers
• cherry tomatoes
• red onions
• a wedge each of feta
• a little hill of fresh cracked pepper; and
• a few eggs.

This promising collection of ingredients became a beautiful salad, but really it’s the egg I’ve been thinking about. At this point a hardboiled egg just wasn’t going to cut it. In my head I saw a beautifully poached egg. Only one problem – I’ve never poached an egg.

Well, today was the day.

Finally, I sat down and atop my salad bowl sat a gently poached egg, white and swollen. Happily, I punctured the egg and its yellow yolk spilled onto the tangle of mixed greens below.