I would say my husband thinks I’m crazy, but in reality he already knows I’m crazy and to him this is just more proof.
I hadn’t tried a fried egg until earlier this year. I know. I must have lived such a sheltered life of only eating scrambled eggs. It wasn’t really sheltered though, more like stubborn and picky. I thought the yolk thing would be nasty, all oozy and gelatinous coming out of my eggs. But one day I got a wild hair to eat a fried egg like my dad used to make them for my sister and himself every Sunday.
When I finally made it, I was beside myself with glee. I couldn’t believe I had gone so long without trying this ooey gooey deliciousness.
I started eating them every day for breakfast. Usually over a slice of toast that I could use to soak up all of the yolk-y deliciousness. But then I had a craving for rice.