Monday, 16 January 2012

Scrambled Heads, I Mean, Eggs


Maid- How do you like your eggs? Poached, fried or raw?

Meade- Scrambled – like your head!

-Phyllis Diller and Bob Hope in Boy, Did I Get a Wrong Number!, 1966


My head was indeed scrambled as I attempted this supposedly easy meal. I was to crack the eggs into a jug and “mix without beating.”

What? What does this mean? How can it be scrambled if you don't beat them? Beats me.

Geddit? “Beats...” Never mind. The inclusion of chervil and chives gave the dish more flavour, although I perhaps used too much of these. I got them pre-chopped in little spice jars from Tesco, so had no idea how much to put on. I still find eggs a little difficult to judge, in terms of cooking. But it was gooood.

And that, my friend, is the end of the egg section. I'm 7 recepies down and have 36 to go. Time for a cholestorol test, maybe?

No comments: