A Secret About Eggs

Here’s a secret absolutely no one knows about me:

I don’t like the taste of eggs.

I’ve never revealed this to anyone, from childhood to retirement. Until now.

As a child I would only eat the white part. Eventually I started eating the yolk. But I never liked eggs.

Many people have seen me eat eggs in all styles: hard-boiled, poached, over-medium, scrambled, or in an omelet, breakfast sandwich, or sizzlin’ skillet. I’ve even had the fried egg on a burger (because you want grease and egg yolk running down your chin.) But as for the eggs themselves: I’m not a fan. A hard-boiled egg needs salt, at least, but any other form requires toast, and/or bacon/sausage/ham, or turkey bacon/sausage. Load that omelette up with veggies, meats, and cheese(s), but don’t ever give me a plain, unadorned egg.

If you would watch me eat an egg, you’d never see me place any measure of just egg in my mouth without seeing a bite of toast or breakfast meat follow it in before I begin to chew. It’s a delicate balancing act of keeping the egg off my tongue before the meat arrives. Because, otherwise, yuck!