Thursday, May 18, 2006

Horrible eggs

Their gooey yellow centers repulse me. Their fluffy white marshmallow surrounds can induce my gag reflex upon a single sighting. Eggs. Add sugar, milk, flour, and some butter and you've got a cake. Vary the ingredients slightly and you've got any number of different creations - pancakes, muffins, scones; an egg will take you a long way. Versatile eggs. Ubiquitous eggs. Horrible, loathsome eggs.

Most children have a particular food they dislike as they're growing up, for some it's brussel sprouts (I never had a problem with brussels, but hell, they sure do make your pee smell funny), for others spinach, and still others despise pumpkin. Me? Growing up I hated eggs. Thinking back to my childhood, the unholy balls of goo hadn't reached the terrible prominence that they occupy in my life today. I disliked them, but I could look at them on another's plate and not be put off the meal in front of me.

But that was all to change when Muriel entered my life. If you were to exhume Karen Carpenter's anorexic corpse and place it in a pair of ratty pink moccasins, you'd have an idea of what Muriel looked like. With Sunken cheeks, eyes so crinkled they made a 'craw' noise every time she cast a glance your way, and skin the dreary stucco of a fifties weatherboard house, Muriel was a wraith that still haunts my nightmares to this very day.

I can still see Muriel standing there, wearing a dressing gown at three in the afternoon, defiantly blowing a cigarette's pungent smoke straight into my nine year old eyes. I remember the movies that she'd put on, movies that someone my age shouldn't have been watching. And I remember her terrible children; they were older than me and intensely nasty. Who could blame them I guess. If she treated them with half as much contempt as she treated me then it's no surprise they ended up being bratty little shits.

You're probably wondering how all this ties into my dislike for eggs. Well, let me tell you. One time, during one of my delightful stays at Muriel's place she summoned us inside for lunch. I'm sure you can guess what she'd cooked. The eggs were done in the style that requires you to eat them from the shell; hardboiled I think it's called. I begged and pleaded, but Muriel was not one for clemency. I choked and gagged as she force-fed me. Yoke juice the color of a Fanta can ran down my chin. The terrible stench of egg assaulted my nostrils. I began to cry.

On that terrible day I developed the only phobia that I possess (I believe my fear of churches is quite rational as I seem to start sizzling and smoking every time I go near one). I'll dry-retch if I see an egg or smell one cooking. I can't eat foods which include obvious signs of egg - think quiche, meringue, or smoothies; and, if someone reminds me that there is egg in less obvious foods - think cake or pancake - then I'll be unable to eat those foods on the occasion that it's brought to my attention. I guess what I'm trying to say is that egg horrifies me, and yes, Muriel, that fucking harpy, horrified me too.

6 comments:

lividia said...

1. softboiled, not hardboiled (if the yolk is runny)

2. eggs in SMOOTHIES? what kind of hell-ass smoothies have you had shoved in front of you? blech.

3. I hate this post. Mostly because I have an incredible love of eggs and egginess. You suck. Or more like Muriel sucks.

My aunt used to make this egg pudding / custard thing that I adored as a child, my father is Master of Omelettes and my mother is Queen of French Toast, and I am a Big Breakfast Addict due to all of this growing up or any time I experience an A.M. with any of the above.

EGGS RULE.

Don Quixote said...

Hardboiled, soft-boiled... either way they are evil. Smoothies, as far as I recall, come with egg in them over here.

Just reading you talk of eggs makes me feel like I'm going to spew. Eggs rule the title of worst food group going round.

I sent an email to your gmail (that wasn't a deliberate rhyme).

nuke said...

Your eggs are my tomatoes.

katharine said...

I go through stages with eggs. Sometimes I really feel like them, but other times the mere thought of them disgusts me.

My mum has a tape of me talking when I was 3. In the tape I said 'Eggs come out of bums...'. Apparently that realization turned me off eggs for months. When you think too long and hard about where any food comes from its bound to turn you off eating it.

treespotter said...

i hate softboiled egg more than i hate other things. now you remind me of the smell and now i hate you. i will smell egg everytime i come here now.

Don Quixote said...

Estars - Wow. It must suck not liking tomatoes - they're the base for just about everything.

Katharine - I think you were a pretty astute child. Eggs are to be avoided at all costs.

Treespotter - The last thing I want to do is to remind you of eggs. I don't want to be associated with eggs in any way.