Eggs, a precious food

When I was growing up, we were all poor, so it was rare to find a family that could afford to buy a dozen eggs in a carton. Even though my family just managed to get by, we couldn't dream of having a meal with eight eggs, one for each of us. Only wealthy children could afford to bring an egg boil for lunch, except when they went on a picnic, where they would wrap one or two boiled eggs in paper with salt.

 

Sometimes my mother would crack a raw egg into my father's and my brother's rice bowls and cover it with rice. When I saw my older brother eating his rice, discovering the egg, and grating it with a joyful expression, I took it for granted, but I also felt envious and a little bit jealous. For me, who was unknowingly watching from the sidelines, egg bibimbap was the ultimate dish. But in a house with a large family and not much money to spare, the choices and focus on the head of the household and the eldest son were inevitable.

 

Even when Ireland was as poor as Korea, eggs were not a common food ingredient. In the novel 'Angela's Ashes', there is a scene like this. When his mother tells him that his father, who has gone to work in England, will send her his first paycheck, she will prepare a wonderful breakfast for the family on the coming Sunday morning, with one egg for each person in the family.

 

"Hey, did you hear, we're going to have one egg each for breakfast on Sunday morning. Oh God. I know how to eat eggs. Tap the shell on one side, crack it lightly. Gently lift the egg out of the shell with a spoon. And push the melted butter and salt into the yolk. I'm going to scoop it out slowly, little by little. I'm going to put a little bit of butter and salt in my mouth. Oh, God in heaven. If heaven has a flavor, it must taste like buttered and salted eggs, right?" I've never seen a more desperate expression of a craving for eggs in my life. Sadly, his irresponsible and incompetent father spent whatever money he did manage to earn on alcohol, so his simple wish was never fulfilled.     

 

Nowadays, eggs are a very cheap ingredient. I go to the grocery store and buy thirty eggs by the carton, and I don't realize how much they cost. It's not that I don't care about the state of the world, it's just that eggs are so cheap that I don't pay much attention to the price. At around $3 for a dozen, eggs are incredibly cheap.

 

I eat one egg every morning. I fry them in a heated skillet with a little cooking oil, add a little water, close the lid of a large skillet, and after a while, open it to find a white film covering the yolk. This is my favorite way to fry eggs because the white film prevents the yolk from running off. I transfer the fried eggs to a plate and scoop them up with a spoon without adding salt or butter, so I'm not as desperate for eggs as the character in Angela's Ashes.

 

This morning, I was going to take just one egg out of the fridge, as I usually do, but then I remembered Angela's Ashes and took out two. As I fried them in the skillet, I decided to add butter and salt, especially today, and to savor the flavors slowly, very slowly, and to be grateful that I could eat such a precious food so often. But I had salt, but no butter. I had long since given up processed foods after being told they were unhealthy. Regretfully, I transferred the two fried eggs to a pretty plate, sprinkled some salt on top, and ate them slowly, savoring the flavors. It was generous and comforting.

 

God in heaven, will heaven taste like this?

 

(February 12, 2018)