The other day, I was watching Blacchyna’s snapchat where she made herself an egg sandwich of a sort. Toasted bread, turkey meat, grated cheese and eggs. Not just any old scrambled eggs, but sunny side up eggs. As she finished making the sandwich and proceeded to eat it, she squeezed down on the sandwich and watched the yoke ooze out of the sandwich onto the plate. I gagged. After several bites of the sandwich she proceeds to sopped the bread up with the yoke on the plate, and again I gagged.
Nothing against Blacchyna or her cooking. In fact, I have seen her cook several meals on snapchat and she’s an amazing cook. But that shit really is disgusting. I happened to like eggs a lot. Boiled, scrambled, in potato salad, and even deviled eggs. But I am really anal about how hard that yoke needs to be cooked. And like how I like my steaks, I expect for it to be well done indeed.
A lot of people don’t know this story, but as a kid, I went to Green Meadows Farm as a class trip. Learning about animals and the reproductive system, it was a prerequisite to be around the animals we have spoken about in school. Well, in the middle of the field trip, we came across chickens coop. We were aware of eggs and that they came from chickens. But what we didn’t know was that they were actually unborn chickens themselves. I speak for myself and various other children by saying we were traumatized that day. Quite a few cried that day. A lot of us, myself included, vowed to never reach that stuff again. But I could never maintain a promise concerning food. Thus to this day, as much as I love chicken and eggs, it just curls my stomach to see yoke running down a plate.