Just as with any good story, we start at the cover with the legendary words,
Once upon a time...
Remember back when I had such wonderful success with my
crêpes!? Yes well, that went so splendidly that I decided another adventure was in order... I like to call this experience
"œuf" (which being interpreted means "egg") for that is how the French say it, and they are classy. That being established, let's move on.
My goal was not merely to boil an egg, please, I was going to make a scrumptious egg salad.
Reading about le eggs, and how to boil them to a soft perfection, I learned the secret to success!! (The secret being, a SLOTTED-SPOON! ...Whatever da-heck that means!)
Being completely prepared, (like how Martha ALWAYS is) I set the water to a "ROARING" boil.
And I waited...
And waited...
And waited some more...
Basically all I did was wait from this hour, to this hour:
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| For the roman-numerally impaired: 12:30-2:36pm |
And so, being puzzled and perplexed as to why I couldn't get some water to a ROARING boil, I tore my sister away from her sweet melodies to assist me.
As I continued to pass time until the problem was solved, I opened the cabinet filled with unknown grains and --to say the least-- un-snackable foods....Ah! Doth mine eyes deceive me!? What could be dressed in such a paper of parchment?! BROWNIES!!!
To put simply... I ate dem all. And felt fat. To which a round of 1-2-3 BE-UGLY was in order (and in my mind, long overdue).
Now let me tell you what the problem was. My ROARING boil would NOT come because I could only manage to s'évaporer (meaning, EVAPORATE) my water! It would not roar because it just simmered away!
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| Yes, I always win! |
At last, the water came to its ROARING boil. With my utensil (which I determined to be thoroughly slotted) I inserted the eggs, one. by. one.
As Martha's book of wisdom told me, if I use a slotted spoon, then it will prevent the egg from cracking. Well... IT LIED. (Unless my roaring boil and slotted spoon were not worthy of such an assignment as this...)
After they had cooked the precise amount of time, the moment for peeling had {FINALLY} come. As Martha said (and we like to do as she does) it is better to gently roll the egg on the counter than to crack it on someones head. Hmpf. The gentle roll of my boiled egg, very quickly turned into ...well, scrambled.
With a starving stomach, I cannot deny a few tears were shed...
My soft boil was in fact so soft, that a tag team composed of a skilled veterinarian and a rooster, could probably have turned this soft boiled egg into a baby chick.
Suddenly, a glimmer of hope!
Très magnifique! All is not lost!
Victory is sweet.
And thus we conclude our endeavor. Bon appétit, and jusqu'à la prochaine fois (until next time!)
