The Best Scrambled Egg 4


This past weekend I drove over 500 miles. I played two basketball games and slept through one. I lost miserably at pool, drank a new lager, and developed a raccoon sunburn. I sat on several curbs, nearly put my hand in gum more than once, and almost lost my favorite pair of sweats. It was Hoopfest. Those were a long three days. But, there were eggs. Not just any eggs. The Best Scrambled Eggs I’ve ever had.

My Hoopfest team - Leaping Ligers

Since freshman year of college I’ve eaten eggs nearly every morning. In the beginning of my egg foray I only cooked them scrambled. I cooked the hell out of those babies. By the time they hit the plate they were so devoid of moisture and packed with cheese they might as well have been powdered. And then I grew up. Expanded. Explored. I discovered frittatas, stratas, and Spanish tortillas. I ate baked eggs and fried eggs and omelets full of you name it. I fell in love with poached eggs and their runny centers. I was sure the scrambled egg was old news.

Come to find out old news sticks around for a reason. Both Saturday and Sunday morning I woke up to eggs. Fluffy, moist eggs that had a rich finish at the end of their bite.

I need to preface the incredibleness of these eggs with the wonderful couple who made them. I didn’t know them – hadn’t met them – didn’t even know what they looked like. Truth be told, I could barely remember their names for the first half hour. Staying with strangers can be a tad intimidating. Wouldn’t you know it, they were amazing. They were interesting to talk to, inquisitive, and full of energy.

Now back to those eggs. I’ll admit, there was a little dressing up going on – some ham and a small sprinkling of cheese. Just to be sure, I tasted the eggs on their own and they are worth the hype. So when morning two rolled around and I was told again there was nothing for me to help with, I watched. Carefully.

Butter went into the pan over low heat. At least a tablespoon of it – unmeasured and sliced from a large brick. It melted slowly as the eggs were broken into a bowl and whisked. Once in the pan, the bright yellow liquid began to come together. Instead of moving the eggs violently, shaking the pan, and scraping the yellow mass this way and that (as I have been known to do), they were folded gently over themselves.

Wandering around Hoopfest, sweaty and tired. We were incredibly thankful for a good breakfast to start the day.

Here’s the real kicker. Near the end, just when it looked like the eggs were ready, small slices of butter were dropped among them. They melted into the fluffy, yellow goodness. And then they were plated and I ate them and I didn’t talk much until my plate was empty.

So this past weekend was long. It was full of wonderful new people, sunshine, and hot black top. It began each day with The Best Scrambled Eggs. 500 miles never looked so good.

The Best Scrambled Eggs
Serves 1

There are two keys to The Best Scrambled Eggs: butter and patience. Butter is obvious. Patience is a little more difficult. Don’t get crazy. Take your time and let these eggs cook slowly. Move them just enough so they don’t burn.

1½ TBS butter
2 eggs
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat 1 TBS butter in a large skillet over medium-low heat.

Break eggs into a small bowl. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Whisk until fully combined.

Add eggs to melted butter. Fold gently as they cook to keep from burning.
NOTE: Do not over stir or turn up the heat. Patience is a virtue.

Just when you think the eggs are finished, as they come together fully, add the remaining butter in small bits. Allow to melt fully.

Consume warm. Try not to look like a pig.

Recipe in print-friendly format


About Mikaela Cowles

I’m a food-gobbling, book-reading, aspiring photog. Born and raised in Seattle, I love dancing in the rain, bouquets of fresh basil and green grass between my toes. I like how kneading butter into flour makes my fingers soft. I’m passionate about all things sweet potato. I prefer my coffee black, my scotch on the rocks and my steak bloody. I hunt, when I have time; play basketball; and hike. I’ve been known to laugh so hard I hyperventilate. And, I’m the owner of Making Language Count, a boutique freelance writing business.

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