In the words of be-speckled Ralphie from “A Christmas Story” I have to say: Ohhhhh fuuuddddgggge!
I am not the greatest person in the world when it comes to being frugal with food. I toss stuff that I shouldn’t have bought in the first place and have been known to chuck stuff that was probably still useable but for me, not so much.
I don’t set out to destroy perfectly good food and thus dump money down the drain though.
Today, for the second time in the last few months I have accomplished destruction of food, although not on purpose mind you.
On a regular basis I hard boil eggs to eat for breakfast, lunch, an occasional protein snack. Just a few hours ago, while allowing myself to be completely preoccupied with homework, creative writing homework no less, I have burned the hell out of half-dozen or more eggs.
The first time, my husband caught the chaos just as they started popping in the pan. Today I missed quite a few pops. It wasn’t until the burning smell of calcium rich egg shells wafted toward my office door that I remembered I had placed 8 eggs into my pan, filled it with water, turned my stove onto high and walked away.
Walked away for an obviously long period of time. I will be damned if I will succumb to this disaster however.
After allowing the crispy, browned shells to cool, I peeled each and every one of those eggs, tried to remove as much of the chocolate-brown burn marks from the normally snow-white congealed albumin and put them in a baggie and into my refrigerator. I will eat those eggs. I will not throw out almost 1 dozen highly overcooked eggs due to my own stupidity.
A positive from this destruction is creeping into my brain though.
The homework I was obviously engrossed in when I allowed my eggs to burn was a literary non-fiction piece for Creative Writing. It started out as a piece on my kids but I wasn’t liking where it was headed.
Non-fiction. Literary. Humor. Sadness. Idiocy. Burned eggs. I see a storyline here.