Egg Salad

So I don't cook much. It probably doesn't come as much of a surprise to most people, but I thought I needed to make sure you understand that. Mostly because today's vignette is about making hard-boiled eggs, and yes, I consider that cooking. I have low standards.

After returning from a very fun adventure at the park with the Greenbergs, I decided to make egg salad while the boys were snoozing and Sofia was busy watching Kipper. So I boil my eggs. I'm also doing laundry, so I'm not really conscious of the passage of time. After what I feel to be a goodly length of time, I turn off the stove and put my eggs under running water. Change loads of laundry, fix the TV for Sofia. I peel my nine eggs, and I'm ready to cook! I cut the first egg. The yolks are not finished cooking.

Another thing you should know about me is I do NOT eat runny eggs. Filipe likes his runny on bread, but for me, if it's moving, I ain't eatin' it. Perhaps that is a hint of my vegetarianism as well. Runny eggs creep me out.

So here I am, looking at my undercooked yolks (to be fair, they're more soft than runny) and I don't know what to do. I've already peeled all nine of the eggs, so it's not like I can stick them back on the stove for a while to finish cooking. But then I think of that modern marvel, the microwave. What if I stick them in there for a while? Maybe they'll at least firm up a bit more. So I stick the bowl in the microwave for about 30 seconds. As I open the door and reach in to take the bowl out, it strikes me that I was making the egg salad in a aluminum bowl. Isn't there some rule about metal in the microwave? Great, so now I've probably created some radioactive runny eggs, full of Salmonella.

After slapping my forehead, I transfer the eggs to a glass bowl and inspect them. They pretty much look the same as before, so I decide to give it another go. In the microwave they go, this time for a minute. After another inspection, I tell myself they look firmer. I figure another nuke and they're going to be like rubber, so you know what I do? I make the egg salad, soft yolks and all. And I am so irritated, I probably won't eat it. I go to all the trouble to cook (low standards, remember?) and I'm not even going to be able to enjoy the yolks of my labor. Of course, it's not going to bother Filipe in the least, and they kids are too young to have these peculiar repulses, but I really do like egg salad. But not with runny yolks. I guess now I'll have to go cook some Jell-o to make me feel better. I love low standards.