Somethin' Bout The Scramble
I remember the day I fell in love with scrambled eggs. I remember it like it was yesterday and, like most life changing events, my sister was there to witness and enjoy the new found attachment....though I don't think she realized the depth of what happened that fateful, overcast morning in Europe. We we're in Fatima, Portugal with my Grandparents, aunt and uncle, two of my cousins, and some people that go to our church. I will admit it might have been the venue that added to how hard I fell for this specific way of cooking liquid chicken. But I am an egg lover in general so my fondness towards the scramble is to be surprised.
Now before you go and assume we're one of those rich families that fly out to Paris or Greece for the weekend let me correct you; it was a miracle I got to go on that trip. Literally. Miracle. Thank you Jesus.We we're all staying in this building that looked as though it could have been a really small B&B....Like, really small. It was donated to a religious order that my cousin so happened to be apart of. Needless to say she was able to set up our group of 13 people for a few nights for free. Though I'm sure my Grandparents maid some sort of donation being as generous as they are.
It was in that little kitchen we made breakfast one morning after going to the little grocery store and stopping by a little Cafe for dirty espresso. Yes. Dirty espresso before breakfast. If you went to Europe with family that you really loved to hang out with and new the only driving you'd be doing is driving said loved ones up the wall (hey what's family for, right?) you'd probably do the same. So don't judge. Anyway it was in that little kitchen we cut up some prosciutto, beat up a good dozen or two eggs, poured both in a big pan on the stove top with salt and pepper and scrambled um up until the mix was firm but NOT dry. If it's one thing I'm not in love with it's over cooked eggs.
Chatter filled the air as we sat down in the dimly lit, cozy dinning room. We we're hungry and ready to eat due to the previous days walking adventures and previous nights consumption of Portuguese wine. The Portuguese have very good wine. The eggs took the main show with sliced bread that tasted more like a simple white cake and butter on the side. There was also milk from a box that we found on the not refrigerated shelf. We all thought that was odd but it tasted fine other then it not being cold.
Back to the eggs. It was love at first bite. They were light and warm and creamy. The prosciutto added flavor as well as saltines without making it too salty. It was perfect. And that was it. I was done for. From then on I have loved scrambled eggs and Europe. Sometimes I keep it simple with just salt and pepper. Sometimes I put a bit of cheese and salsa on top. Not on Europe. Just on my eggs.
