Darrin and I are most definitely breakfast people, and our slow start to our spring graduate semesters have been recently accompanied by even slower weekday mornings cooking loaded omelets or egg scrambles — both of which are often paired with hickory smoked bacon. It’s nice marrying a man who knows his way around the breakfast world. I first tasted Darrin’s infamous omelet recipe on Valentine’s Day morning during our sophomore year in college. He worked his breakfast brilliance in the community kitchen of my dorm building, surrounded by grease-stained appliances and crusts of mysterious food stuck to the countertops because cleaning isn’t “cool” in college I guess. Not the most “romantic” of Valentine’s Day settings, but this cute redheaded boy was cooking me breakfast and pouring me a tall glass of orange juice in a pink Valentine’s Day cup, so I chose to ignore the unknown dirty dishes piled high in the sink. Love is blind…or something like that.
I tried imitating Darrin’s egg scrambler on my own the other morning. The result? Brown eggs. Crusty. Almost completely stuck to the pan. So I’m hoping that these slower mornings we’ve been having continue for a looooong time, mornings where Darrin cooks his magical omelets and I watch from my seat at the kitchen table, because brown eggs are just not okay. Yellow and white eggs? Definitely. Green eggs? Sure thing. But brown eggs? No thank you, Sam I am.