Perfection

For years my husband has been trying to make me the perfect fried egg.  I've told him how I like it.  Not too underdone, not too overdone.  I've coached him about keeping the heat down and not seasoning it before it's cooked.  He continues to try and I'm sorry to say that he continues to miss the mark.  I feel like a heel for not hiding my feelings about his egg when he offers it to me.  He asks, with eyes hopeful, "how was your egg?" "Good but a bit overdone"  Is usually my reply.  I am nothing if not honest.

I think, no I know there have been a few bad meals I have dished him up over the years.  He never complains.  Yet somehow you just know when the mark has been missed.  Bless his heart he really does try to get my eggs right but usually I offer to make one for myself... and he knows why.  It's because I know how I like it.  I also know how I like my pancakes but that's another topic for another day.

He just wants to please me and is so eager to learn so the other day I gave him a few more clues to the way I like them fried.  I suggested keeping the temperature lower and cooking it longer.  Making sure not to crack the egg into a cold pan.  He came and showed the egg to me while I was getting out of the shower.  Looked okay!  He put it on a slice of toast for me.  I was in a rush and thought I might have to get the egg to go, but there was still a few minutes on the clock for me to sit down and eat.  I cut into my egg and watched it run all over the plate.  Too runny.  You know it's really hard to get it medium soft!  I'm not quite sure how I do it but I think it's the experience I've had at the skillet making eggs for so many over the years and my internal clock just knows when to say when.  I was honest about my egg.  But I was also grateful for the effort and I ate it anyways.

At least T still has something to look forward to perfecting in his future.  He has to have one flaw : )