Scrambled Eggs - Take One

The recipe seemed easy. It called for six large eggs, six tablespoons of low-fat milk, and some butter for frying. It also called for three dashes of salt, which caused Brit some concern. Additionally, Ethan was quite sure that black pepper might enhance the flavor. “The book does not say that though,” whispered Brit.

“Cookbooks are guides, Brit. Not Bibles,” replied Ethan. He paused looking over a letter that he was reading. Tapping the paper, he smiled to her. “Unless you are baking. Then you may wish to stick to the recipe as baking is a bit like alchemy. There is an art to it.” Brit puffed her cheeks and looked at the recipe again shifting uncomfortably. Placing his letter aside, he said encouragingly, “You can follow the instructions as they are written. Then we shall assess what to change.”

Brit nodded and found a small bowl. She changed to a larger bowl after adding the fourth egg. Using a fork, she meticulously removed broken bits of shell. “Oh no. I did not heat a large non-stick skillet.” Turning from the bowl of eggs, she fished about for a skillet.

Ethan said, “Maybe reading the entire recipe would be the better plan. Then you would know what to do and in what order it should be done.”

Beaming at him, Brit said, “That’s a way good plan.” She sat at the table and read the book again carefully making pictorial notes on a separate piece of paper. Comparing the notes to the cookbook, she looked up satisfied. Ethan helped her adjust the heat to “medium” after she pointed out there were no markings on the stove. Placing the skillet on the heat, Brit went back to adding the milk. She paused with the salt. “How much is a dash?”

“A dash is…” Ethan rubbed his chin. “Just bounce the shaker three times in the bowl.”

“Is that a dash?” Brit asked.

Ethan gave her another confident smile, “We can add more than take it away. Let us try that for now.” Brit carefully bounced the shaker three times over the bowl. Looking at her notes, he said, “And now, you should beat it vigorously for 2 minutes.” Seeing her hesitation, he motioned what he thought he should do.

“You mean mix them up lots?” She held the bowl peering into it.

Ethan nodded affirmatively, “Indeed. They are called ‘scrambled’. Brit started to stir the eggs after peering up at the clock to keep time. Ethan watched her with a hint of amusement. Brit had been enjoying the small cabin and playing house. Her hair framed her face as she worked. Noting the stove, he picked up a ribbon and walked behind her as she stirred. “When cooking, I wish you to tie your hair back, baby.” He could not help but shudder at the brief thought of what fire could do to both of them.

Ethan helped Brit add the butter to the skillet and watched as she poured in the egg mixture a bit too soon. The sizzle caused her to pause. Using a flat wooden spoon, she started to stir the eggs to the center as it said in the cookbook. Almost immediately clots of yellow egg started to form. Brit’s eyes widened as if she were witnessing magic. She continued to stir until all of the yellowy egg mixture had congealed and the outsides looked wet.

“Brit, it says you should break apart all of the big pieces and flip them over,” Ethan said as he pointed to the line in the book watching as Brit followed his instructions. Brit watched and counted the extra time to cook the eggs before scooping them out onto a plate. Ethan turned off the flame smirking, “And the last line is salt and pepper to taste.”

“What does that mean,” asked Brit.

“It means that you add salt and pepper until it is how you best enjoy it.” Brit nodded and Ethan gestured to the table. Brit nibbled her lower lip realizing she had forgotten to make toast. Ethan chuckled, “It does not matter. You can make toast later as it would be better, I think, than cold eggs.”

Shrugging, Brit grinned as she slid onto her chair and watched as Ethan brought the salt and pepper with him to face her. She ate the eggs slowly sprinkling a few grains of salt and/or pepper with each bite. Finally, she announced, “I like the eggs with salt and a tiny bit of pepper.”

Ethan chuckled and said, “Then we should write that in your book.” He picked up a pencil adding the note as Brit finished her eggs. When she was cleaning up, he asked, “Were the eggs good?”

“They were good, but they were not as good as when other people make them,” Brit replied. Ethan frowned and reread the recipe thinking that Brit had followed it reasonably well. Lisping, Brit said, “They were still yummy.”

Flipping through pages, Ethan said, “I am sure that we can find how to make them as you like them. This is but a start.” He placed the book aside and turned to her as she finished clearing the table. “You are yummy but that does not mean that I do not desire ways to see how I can improve on your perfection.”

Grabbing her up, he gave her several playful bites until she was giggling while squirming in his hold. Ethan continued until her heart was racing and then he bit deeply and drank several long sips while holding her closely. She melted against him fluidly making him think of the butter in the pan. As he drank, he swore he could taste the pepper. It was seemed like a memory of some dream.