I’m eggsasperated!

Dear America,

Please learn how to cook fried eggs.

Yours sincerely,

People who like fried eggs.

Now, who do I send this letter to? Who is responsible for the sad state of affairs when it comes to correctly frying a bloody egg?

Probably someone by the name or Sam, or Nella.

(get it?)

Anyway, bad puns aside, when it comes to the simplicity of frying an egg, there seems to be 4 choices available:

Sunny side up – 90% raw white, mostly cooked yolk (although who knows; raw and cooked yolks look pretty much the same)
Over easy – 50% raw white, cooked yolk (but the yolk is never as good as sunny side up).
Over medium – See ‘over easy’.. It’s the fucking same. Don’t tell me it’s not.
Over hard – 110% cooked (rubbery) white with a dry, overcooked yolk.

Mmmm, delicious. Oh, wait, no they aren’t.

Frying an egg is simple, Dennys/IHOP/any breakfast diner in America!

All you’ve got to do is NOT be in a rush to get it out to the customer and let the white of the egg actually COOK. We can wait an extra 45 seconds; just cook the bloody whites will ya! Then you wouldn’t need to add a disclaimer at the bottom of your menus telling us that eating raw eggs can be harmful.

It beggars belief that this is a thing, and that it’s completely acceptable! Are you telling me I could be POISONED by your eggs?

Imagine getting your tyres [tires1] replaced, but the mechanic only half bolts your wheels back onto your car, and then hands you a disclaimer telling you it can be dangerous to drive with unsecured wheels?

Dangerous? It’s practically lethal!

Just put the wheels on properly, I mean….you’re RIGHT there! Just bolt them on fully!

My wife is in her thirties and has never liked fried eggs. I couldn’t understand why and I pleaded with her to let me cook her a proper fried egg. She finally agreed, and I fried her an egg the right way. I watched as her pupils dilated while her brain rewired her feelings about fried eggs. She had a look on her face that was somewhere between confusion, disbelief and utter joy; she loved it! And now, three decades into her life, she’s finally enjoying fried eggs, as long as they’re cooked by me.

So please, America, learn how to cook eggs! I’m sick and tired of sending them back to be finished, or having to order scrambled eggs when I don’t want them.

Sincerely,

Patient 319,
ICU – Poisoning ward,
Las Vegas County Hospital.

1 – It’s ‘tyres’, not ‘tires’. The latter is a verb.

Arguing The Toss

Today, during a meeting at work, one of my colleagues decided to share a top culinary tip with us. She’s a pretty smart cookie, so I was curious to know what mind blowing gastronomic trickery she was about to impart.

She smiled, opened her mouth and said:

“The best way to tell if your pasta is cooked properly is to throw it against the fridge and if it sticks, it’s cooked.”

Illogical

After a long pause and a few shared looks of concern for both her mental health and the quality of her spaghetti bolognese, I replied, “Or, you could, y’know, taste it”.

After a few nods of agreement at my introduction of sanity, and some repressed chuckles at the ludicrous nature of what she’d just spouted out of her mouth hole, she sat up in her chair and became very animated.

“I’m serious! It’s the best way to test if your pasta is cooked!”, she insisted.

She was wrong, of course.

“Ask anyone!”, she continued, “Google it!”.

This was a great suggestion because if it’s on the internet, it’s got to be true. Hey, did you know that a duck’s quack doesn’t echo?

So, as we argued the toss (see what I did there?), we decided to Google it and, lo and behold, there were a plethora of videos uploaded by NOT chefs showing that pasta, when thrown at a fridge or a window (or a flat screen TV, or a work colleague’s face) does, in fact, stick.

At this point we argued that under-cooked pasta will also stick because, y’know, starch.

She wasn’t having any of it.

So, as we all went back to our desks, still disputing the issue, she collared the first person we came across and pounced on him; “Hey, how do you test if pasta is cooked properly?”.

He paused for a moment, clearly not expecting to be asked this question today, and replied with, “You throw it at the ceiling and see if it sticks”.

“YES!!” she screamed, victoriously throwing her hands in the air, before turning to us with fingers pointing, “See, I told you! Ha!”.

So let me get this right, your only reliable and factual back up is someone who is clearly NOT Google, and also throws his pasta ON THE CEILING to check if it’s cooked? Not only does his kitchen probably resemble a cave full of stalactites, but he’s also an idiot.

Being half Italian myself, I know how to check if your pasta is cooked; you time it and you taste it; it’s simple really. Hurling your food at a kitchen appliance is not a sure fire way to check how cooked your meal is.

Plus, it’s fucking up my fridge magnets.

Please give a crap… 

This is a public service announcement.

Diabetes is on the rise in America and something needs to be done about it.

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For just the price of one hot steaming poo a day,  we can help find the cure for this debilitating disease.

That’s right,  just one heavy,  corn infused bum dumpling and we can take a stand (or squat) against diabetes.

We hope that,  one day,  we can shit our way to finding a remedy against this insulin deficiency once and for all.

So,  please read our book and create food that will enable you to birth the most substantial,  eye watering,  bung stretching turds you’ve ever experienced.

Let’s end this sugared tyranny by standing together.

Or squatting.

Yes,  squatting makes more sense.

Crumbs!

Opening a tub of butter to find it full of toast crumbs is great isn’t it? I mean, I can’t wait to smear those day(s) old stale crumbs onto my warm toast.

There’s nothing more satisfying than using that blob of crumb ridden butter mindlessly scraped onto the side of the tub because someone had ‘a little left over’. I guess they thought someone else may want to use it.

Oh, how right they were!  I love it even more when there are bits of jam or Marmite smeared in with it.

Mmmm….yay, fucking delicious!

Luckily I cook with butter from time to time as well, so adding this sodden mess to my cooking just goes some way towards improving the flavour and texture of every meal I prepare. And I don’t have to tell you the joy I feel when my buttered potatoes have that gritty feel with a distinct suggestion of marmalade and pickle.

So i’ve started leaving smeared shit on unused toilet paper….you know, just in case someone else wants to use it.

I had a little left over.

buttercurl