Egg-plosion

In my continuing quest to convince everyone in my near vicinity that Americans really are crazy, I made a giant mess at breakfast yesterday morning.

Let me preface this story by saying that since we arrived in SEA I have been on an unsuccessful quest to locate the perfect soft-boiled egg. Other times I have been here, I ate many lovely soft-boiled eggs, but this time, such eggs have been elusive. I have found fried eggs, omelettes, and scrambled eggs -- and even the occasional hard-boiled egg...but alas, no soft-boiled eggs to sop up with toast.

Thus, when I opened the menu at the Atlanta Hotel and saw "boiled eggs" under the breakfast options, I jumped with glee. I was certain that the Atlanta could deliver my fabulous eggs! I carefully ordered two eggs -- specifying repeatedly that they should be soft-boiled, not hard-boiled. And out they came -- two shining globes in metal eggcups patiently awaiting my toast.

And that's where the problem arose. I had no spoon, and I wasn't sure the proper protocol for opening an egg sitting casually in an egg cup. In Laos, I always peeled the whole egg and dropped it into a baguette. At home, I smush the eggs in a bowl.

I tapped on the top of the first egg with my knife. It refused to give. I tapped on it with my fork. No luck. So I decided to do what I would do at home and peel the whole egg. Fine idea -- poor execution. I tapped the egg a little too hard on my plate and crushed it, sending runny yolk shooting all over my plate and my hand just as the waitress walked past and the French ladies at the next table glanced my way.

The waitress dashed to our table and told me to wait for a spoon. By now most of the restaurant patrons were staring unabashedly at me.

The waitress then returned with a spoon, replaced the crushed egg in its eggcup and proceeded to remove the top herself...and give me a long explanation on eating soft-boiled eggs...most of which I knew, but none of which I could ignore at that point. As if all of this wasn't embarrassing enough, once I finished my first egg and picked up the spoon to break into the second one, over dashed the waitress again. She took the spoon for me and opened the top of the egg, all the while muttering about me being her "baby." Oh dear... I'm surprised she didn't feed me every bite of the darn egg.

So today I order muesli. I'll eat eggs at home in the future. The cats don't mind when I make a mess.