|This mornings breakfast of my first ever fried eggs, and buttered toast|
Today I made fried eggs for the first time in my life. I wouldn't call myself a picky eater, because I will try anything once, but some food textures freak me out, the chief amongst them being runny eggs. I can not stomach the idea of eating something that is not quite solid, not quite liquid, salty, and warm. It grosses me out, so I had never eaten a fried egg, or tried to make one, staying safely with hard scrambled eggs, sometimes with a little cheese, my whole life. For shame, I know.
Fried eggs didn't seem that difficult to make, and I already had eggs in the refrigerator, along with butter, so it seemed like a good place to start. I dug my copy of The Joy of Cooking out of a box in the basement and looked up "fried eggs." Apparently fried eggs are, in fact, difficult to make so I turned to my ever present font of kitchen knowledge - my boyfriend, Marcus. His advice was to not panic. He has known me long enough to be well aware of the usual result of me in a kitchen with the stove lit - panic.
I found the instructions for frying eggs in The Joy of Cooking and was immediately encouraged by the use of 1 to 3 tablespoons of butter. I have struggled with food the better part of my life, and although I love butter, frequently can't bring myself to put it on anything for fear of the fat. I can easily rationalize cooking with butter, however. I'm not putting it on anything, its going in. Out of sight, out of mind. Yummy.
So, I put 3 whole tablespoons of butter into my largest frying pan (which is not very large at all, and barely fit my two eggs) and waited for it to melt. I am not patient, and usually put the flame on my stove on high, but I figured I should trust the cookbook, and set it to just below medium. And I waited, and waited, aaaaand waited. Apparently it takes a long time for butter to get to being "sizzling, but not yet brown." I ended up calling Marcus and asking what butter looks like before it gets brown, describing to him what I had in the pan as "a pool of floaty, albino, pond scum." It seems that before butter gets brown it gets "frothy," although I like "albino pond scum" better, "frothy" sounds much more appetizing. I wish TJoC had actually just said "frothy" or "albino pond scum" since my butter had been frothy for almost 10 minutes before I thought to ask Marcus what my butter should be doing, and I had probably cooked away about a tablespoon of butter already.
|My eggs, happily frying in a pool of butter.|
With a pan full of hot, frothy butter I added in two eggs. At this point I discovered, not only was my pan rather small, but it was tippy, and the eggs slid over to one side. My tea kettle helped out with this one, holding my pan steady so I could go look for something to put in my eggs. Being a lolita, plain eggs will not suffice, so I added oregano and thyme. Delicious. I am glad I got the photo of my eggs in the pan, because they did not leave the pan so nicely. I flopped them over, and the yolks both broke, and I barely managed to get a picture before the yolk got out from under the egg. I did, however, have time to soak my toast in the hot, buttery, egg juice left in the pan. It made for a wonderful breakfast.