For my birthday this year, my mom got me an egg cup that is shaped like a knight. It has a little spoon for a lance. You take off the helmet, whack the eggshell with the little spoon until it opens, and eat the egg out of the suit of armor like a ravenous dragon. I highly recommend the experience. All I need now is a hoard.
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My mother was not happy about my last column’s raw egg-eating revelation. Immediately after I sent her the link, I received a text reading “Girl!” (my mom texts like she just stepped off the set of “Clueless”), “This is not how I raised you! What were you thinking!” I countered with some salient points about my current aliveness and frequent consumption of raw cookie dough and received a trio of spiral-eye emojis in response. So, in an effort to please the payer of my tuition, this week I will set aside the poaching and make an attempt with my old standby, the electric kettle.
The soft-boiled egg is a master of suspense. You’ve boiled your water, you’ve followed the demanding beeps of your phone’s alarm to perfection and finally you simply hold the egg in your hands (not really, because 'ouch,' 'hot,' etc.) and wonder. There is no way of knowing what lies beneath the surface, what lurks below the inscrutable face of the eggshell. To crack the shell is a leap of faith. But every faith can be tested, and even the most devoted have their breaking point. Today, I’m skipping the suspense.
I’ve gotten really into those ramen cups they have at Hodge lately. They're so simple — open the cup up halfway, pour in the dried vegetables and flavor packet, add water to the line, let it sit for four minutes. It’s salty and slightly spicy — the absolute perfect vehicle for a perfectly cooked soft-boiled egg.