The only good hard boiled eggs I ever had are lost.
We had our Easter hunt again. Travis became disorientated. He regresses during these events, the pressure of so many strange persons on the field seems to knock him silly. There were 25 people. He had his fingers stuffed into his mouth, a habit he had when he was smaller. I told him what to do, where to go, what to look for, but I knew he wasn't listening. I wonder what he was listening to? You couldn't hear anything, because everyone was talking. He could hear me, though, because I was right there beside his ear.
When mark get set and go went Trav went too, only after a while he skipped out of the area and started to look for eggs in the Big Kids Field. Everyone laughed and the teacher came by to point out a particularly attractive egg to Travis, just to make sure he wouldn't feel too bad about breaking the rules.
Yesterday my wife called me from work and talked to the answering machine. I just turn the phone off these days. The machine told me to boil some eggs for the Easter Hunt, and that my wife had forgotten to do these things.
"How soon do you want these eggs?" I called the teacher.
"We're dying them at 230," she said.
There was a pause. I had an idea.
"Hey," I said, how do you cook hard boiled eggs?"
I was thinking to myself that it took 3 to 5 minutes, but it would be good to have this confirmed by a woman who understood these matters.
"3 to 5 minutes," she said, "3 if you want soft and 5 if you want them really hard boiled."
"That's amazing," I told her, "I was just thinking that."
She laughed.
I put a pot on the stove and turned the heat to high.
When I looked later the water was getting hot, with stirrings, but was not boiling. That was when I realized 3 to 5 minutes could mean anything. Were the eggs supposed to have been in there from the beginning, or did you wait until the pot was boiling?
I put an egg in. It fell to the bottom of the pan and broke. The next 15 eggs I let slide off a spoon, gently lowering them into their bath.
Trav started screaming from downstairs; the plague carriors on the video game he was playing were killing him and he needed help. So I ran downstairs. I forgot about the eggs, remembered, and ran back up. When I looked at the clock I think it said I had 2 minutes to go, but wasn't sure. The water was really boiling.
I took them out, and like I'd watched my mother do 40 years ago, put the pot in a sink and let a little cold water drizzle into the pan.
(stop to save post)
A little while later I took the damaged eggs out, the ones that had sprayed their guts out into the water and formed strange sculptures. I figured we'd eat the those and save the perfect ones for the hunt. The peels slid right off. It was so good. With some eggs you pick and pick and every chip is a battle and every third one a chunk of flesh comes loose, so when you're done you have a ravaged product in your hands. But these shells came off so easy, it was a gift from God. These were blessed eggs. They didn't smell like farts. The centers were not hardened and green and dry and would make the kids scream for juice to wash down. The flesh was sweet, the eggs were so good, the center just a little soft, just a little, and had flavor. These were the best hard boiled eggs I ever had. Travis knew it too and ate another. I ate two and baby ate one, that left ten for the dozen I was supposed to have.
The next day was the hunt, and we'd forgotten the eggs. I called the Teacher again. 'Just bring them to school, we'll do something with them.' She said.
When the Easter Egg Hunt was over I told the kids they could have the candy if they each ate an egg first. As I broke the shells for them, I saw the green centers and smelled the old sulphur.
Our eggs, those ten great eggs were still at the school and untouched. We must get them.
I thought I'd call and ask the Teacher if she intended to use them for anything, because if not....but she was in a conference. A kid came to school stinking real bad and after the second day the Teacher asked the kid to sponge bath in the bathroom and clean herself up. The parents were incensed about this and wanted to talk to the Teacher.
"Well, what's the problem?' I asked the Aide, they've been in there for 45 minutes. Isn't the Kid clean, what do they have to talk about?"
I hung up the phone and looked at my eldest boy's Easter basket. It was filled with eggs. I counted them quickly.
"We've enough there to trade for our eggs." I told my wife, "Let's give them these and get the good eggs"
As I started for the basket my son stopped me. He wouldn't say why, just wanted to keep his eggs. Sliently, with large glowing dark eyes, he just said over and over again he didnt' want to do it.
"If you could just tell me a reason," I pleaded with him, "just a reason, doesn't matter what it is, I'll accept it, but this unknowing, I can't take it" I told him. "Why, why, why won't you let us trade for our eggs back?"
"We'll even dye ours. You'll get to dye them. It'll be fun." My wife told him.
"No" he said, "yours won't be as good. They won't be as good as these. They won't be as pretty as these"
And that was true. Each year we tried but ours were mostly faded blues and greens. The eggs in his basket were crayoned and painted and pretty swell.
So that was that. We couldn't get them back. The best hard boiled eggs I ever had, and I can't duplicate the conditions of their preparation because I don't know exactly what happened, how hot the water was, and how much time was involved.
The eggs were fresh, they'd smelled of health, they would be good for you, and tasted every bit as good as that promise.
I'd never see them again. By the time the school got around to serving them, they'd be in the fridge a week, and taste just like every hard boiled egg I'd ever had.
Another year has come by, another Hunt, perhaps next year Travis will knock them down and pick 'em up, but as always, happy Easter to everyone, all the forumites, all my friends, and to our friend, Uncle Bill.
Bless you.
We had our Easter hunt again. Travis became disorientated. He regresses during these events, the pressure of so many strange persons on the field seems to knock him silly. There were 25 people. He had his fingers stuffed into his mouth, a habit he had when he was smaller. I told him what to do, where to go, what to look for, but I knew he wasn't listening. I wonder what he was listening to? You couldn't hear anything, because everyone was talking. He could hear me, though, because I was right there beside his ear.
When mark get set and go went Trav went too, only after a while he skipped out of the area and started to look for eggs in the Big Kids Field. Everyone laughed and the teacher came by to point out a particularly attractive egg to Travis, just to make sure he wouldn't feel too bad about breaking the rules.
Yesterday my wife called me from work and talked to the answering machine. I just turn the phone off these days. The machine told me to boil some eggs for the Easter Hunt, and that my wife had forgotten to do these things.
"How soon do you want these eggs?" I called the teacher.
"We're dying them at 230," she said.
There was a pause. I had an idea.
"Hey," I said, how do you cook hard boiled eggs?"
I was thinking to myself that it took 3 to 5 minutes, but it would be good to have this confirmed by a woman who understood these matters.
"3 to 5 minutes," she said, "3 if you want soft and 5 if you want them really hard boiled."
"That's amazing," I told her, "I was just thinking that."
She laughed.
I put a pot on the stove and turned the heat to high.
When I looked later the water was getting hot, with stirrings, but was not boiling. That was when I realized 3 to 5 minutes could mean anything. Were the eggs supposed to have been in there from the beginning, or did you wait until the pot was boiling?
I put an egg in. It fell to the bottom of the pan and broke. The next 15 eggs I let slide off a spoon, gently lowering them into their bath.
Trav started screaming from downstairs; the plague carriors on the video game he was playing were killing him and he needed help. So I ran downstairs. I forgot about the eggs, remembered, and ran back up. When I looked at the clock I think it said I had 2 minutes to go, but wasn't sure. The water was really boiling.
I took them out, and like I'd watched my mother do 40 years ago, put the pot in a sink and let a little cold water drizzle into the pan.
(stop to save post)
A little while later I took the damaged eggs out, the ones that had sprayed their guts out into the water and formed strange sculptures. I figured we'd eat the those and save the perfect ones for the hunt. The peels slid right off. It was so good. With some eggs you pick and pick and every chip is a battle and every third one a chunk of flesh comes loose, so when you're done you have a ravaged product in your hands. But these shells came off so easy, it was a gift from God. These were blessed eggs. They didn't smell like farts. The centers were not hardened and green and dry and would make the kids scream for juice to wash down. The flesh was sweet, the eggs were so good, the center just a little soft, just a little, and had flavor. These were the best hard boiled eggs I ever had. Travis knew it too and ate another. I ate two and baby ate one, that left ten for the dozen I was supposed to have.
The next day was the hunt, and we'd forgotten the eggs. I called the Teacher again. 'Just bring them to school, we'll do something with them.' She said.
When the Easter Egg Hunt was over I told the kids they could have the candy if they each ate an egg first. As I broke the shells for them, I saw the green centers and smelled the old sulphur.
Our eggs, those ten great eggs were still at the school and untouched. We must get them.
I thought I'd call and ask the Teacher if she intended to use them for anything, because if not....but she was in a conference. A kid came to school stinking real bad and after the second day the Teacher asked the kid to sponge bath in the bathroom and clean herself up. The parents were incensed about this and wanted to talk to the Teacher.
"Well, what's the problem?' I asked the Aide, they've been in there for 45 minutes. Isn't the Kid clean, what do they have to talk about?"
I hung up the phone and looked at my eldest boy's Easter basket. It was filled with eggs. I counted them quickly.
"We've enough there to trade for our eggs." I told my wife, "Let's give them these and get the good eggs"
As I started for the basket my son stopped me. He wouldn't say why, just wanted to keep his eggs. Sliently, with large glowing dark eyes, he just said over and over again he didnt' want to do it.
"If you could just tell me a reason," I pleaded with him, "just a reason, doesn't matter what it is, I'll accept it, but this unknowing, I can't take it" I told him. "Why, why, why won't you let us trade for our eggs back?"
"We'll even dye ours. You'll get to dye them. It'll be fun." My wife told him.
"No" he said, "yours won't be as good. They won't be as good as these. They won't be as pretty as these"
And that was true. Each year we tried but ours were mostly faded blues and greens. The eggs in his basket were crayoned and painted and pretty swell.
So that was that. We couldn't get them back. The best hard boiled eggs I ever had, and I can't duplicate the conditions of their preparation because I don't know exactly what happened, how hot the water was, and how much time was involved.
The eggs were fresh, they'd smelled of health, they would be good for you, and tasted every bit as good as that promise.
I'd never see them again. By the time the school got around to serving them, they'd be in the fridge a week, and taste just like every hard boiled egg I'd ever had.
Another year has come by, another Hunt, perhaps next year Travis will knock them down and pick 'em up, but as always, happy Easter to everyone, all the forumites, all my friends, and to our friend, Uncle Bill.
Bless you.
I've always placed them in the pot when the water is about 90° C to prevent cracking, and then kept them in for about 9 minutes under full boil. A rinsing under cold water makes it really easy to take the shell off.
I do love a good hard-boiled egg now and again.