Still Life With Wooden Spoon


The Tao of Scrambled Eggs
July 25, 2010, 12:00 pm
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It was the morning after a night before – along with a certain dryness behind the eyes that can only be the result of multiple gin and tonics – and breakfast was required. Now, I am the first to admit that I am a bit of an egg fascist. I’ll accept, and even look forward to, variations and interpretations in any other dishes, but in the theology of the kitchen, eggs are my dogma. Now that that is out of the way – on to the breakfast. Or, to be more precise, scrambled eggs with pesto.

It’s deceptively simple. After mixing together six eggs (I was cooking for 3), a healthy portion of pesto, salt and pepper, the pan is heated and introduced to an indulgent knob of butter. Once frothing, the eggs are added and stirred. After a couple of seconds, I like to turn the heat off and just let the eggs thicken themselves, giving them a good mix around every now and again. I find that the residual heat does the trick, and doing them this way stops them from drying out. I actually end up “cooking” the eggs for quite a while, stirring for ages, and turning the gas on for a bit again if they need a bit of coaxing. The end result is, however, delightful. Creamy, rich, and flecked through with rather delicious pesto.

Once done to the required done-ness, the eggs just need to make the acquaintance of some cunningly preprepared toast and breakfast is served. There’s something incredibly zen-like about perfect scrambled eggs, especially when eaten on a balcony in marvellous company on a rather lovely Saturday morning. Accompanied by a cup or two of coffee, the hangover was sent on its way, and the weekend could continue. Lovely.




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