I’m no singer. I’m no (great) dancer, either. I can’t paint pictures, sew, knit, play an instrument, crochet, cross stitch, ride a horse, sculpt, cut a straight line, wrap a pretty gift, etc.
So when I do come across something I can do, I feel pretty darned good about it.
Thanks to some inspiration from my mom – well, probably more like a little friendly competition – I can flip an egg. Usually.
I never really gave flipping eggs much thought. Interesting, since I’ve always enjoyed my eggs over easy but have had my fair share of unsuccessful spatula turns. I guess I always thought that was just the way it is.
This mentality changed slightly while Rick and I were on our honeymoon in Aruba. Every morning, I’d wait in line for a fried egg to complete my breakfast sandwich. And every morning I was impressed by the way the chef would put a half ladle full of oil (it was small) in the pan, crack in my egg and flip it over, then flip it onto my plate. Effortlessly.
About a year later, we were visiting with my mom. She was making breakfast and quite casually flipped the eggs. Excuse me? When did this happen? I’d watched that woman fry eggs for years with nary a shake of the pan. And all of a sudden, she’s flipping them with so much nonchalance? The audacity!
There and then, I decided if she could do it, so could I.
We got back to Cincinnati and I decided to give it a whirl. I got out my smallest non-stick pan, a pat of butter and a couple of unsuspecting ovums. That first time, I was so concerned about getting enough air to flip the eggs, I put way too much into it and those things busted apart like one of Dave Letterman’s watermelons dropped from the top of the RCA building.
But I’m a quick learner. I found my stride and flipped what I dare say was the perfect egg. And since then, I’ve never gone back to the spatula. Once in a while, I still splatter myself with hot butter or lose my nerve and don’t give it enough gas, but overall, it’s been a rousing success. Maybe it’s time to get back on that horse…