I had a hankering for egg salad. Who knows why. Maybe it’s because I thought it was the advent of spring, even though it was 50 degrees outside? Maybe because I was nostalgic for Sunday afternoons of my childhood?
I read the recipe carefully. “Boil a large pot of water and carefully lower the eggs into the water, making sure the shells don’t crack.” Well, goodness. the first two eggs into the pot of water cracked. Now what?
As I pulled the eggs out of the boiling water and doused them in ice water, I laughed at the two cracked eggs. One had a mustache and one had a toupee. And I couldn’t bring myself to crack them (more), because of the dynamic conversations that they were having. At some point, I’ll eat them. But for now, they’re great companions.