|I Hate to Cook
||[Jul. 29th, 2013|06:38 pm]
I'm trying to decide whether I should try to make an omelet for dinner or just stick to scrambled eggs. My omelets have never turned out well, but scrambled eggs are so dull. Either way, I'll probably have spinach in it, and maybe some cheese and spaghetti sauce on top. That would do a lot to liven up scrambled eggs, but I still like the idea of the omelet. Too bad mine always turn out tough instead of fluffy. |
A cooler day has finally arrived, thanks to the phenomenon called the delta breeze, which brings air up from San Francisco Bay. Air brought by a delta breeze is always a bit hazy. I think it's a combination of bay fog and valley smog that makes it so. It's a bit grayer these days than it was twenty years ago, probably due to the fact that the valley is so much smoggier than it used to be. But the air is cool, so I'm willing to endure its ever-increasing filth.
I was going to write about something else, too, but I feel my blood sugar crashing, and my memory and attention span along with it, so I must get to those eggs, whatever form they may ultimately take. Cooking is an onerous chore, but at least it's better than being cooked. Thank goodness that's over, even if only for the time being.
I'm glad you're getting a break from the heat!
I usually just boil the eggs and either eat them with a little mayo or just eat them. I never had the right touch to make good scrambled eggs, which are a lovely thing, so long as I don't eat them too often.
I really miss the Seven Stars Cafe, a greasy spoon diner in my old neighborhood that I frequented in my late teens. The regular cook there was a master of scrambled eggs. They were perfect every time, as were the hash browns that accompanied them. The toast was inconsistent, and the coffee ranged from pretty bad to unspeakably vile, depending on how long it had been sitting in the pot, but the perfect eggs made up for it.
Plus it was dirt cheap, and the waitresses were almost all from the south and called you Honey, and there was a good jukebox with an eclectic assortment of popular and once-popular music. The diner is long gone, and Van (the cook) probably is, too. I doubt I'll ever see their like again. Thomas Wolfe was so right.
I miss that kind of place too! Well, actually, there's one next door here, but it's more bar than diner, and the used-grease smell of the hash browns is off-putting. And they overcook the eggs. But it has personality plus. *g*
Thomas Wolfe was definitely right, though. There are places in my memory that would only disappoint as they are now.
My old neighborhood was loaded with greasy spoons and hamburger joints, but the Seven Stars was usually the only one that was open 24 hours so that's where we most often ended up after an evening out at the movies or one of the bohemian coffee houses on the west side of town.
Bar Dawn (which is what the waitresses called the period around two o'clock in the morning, when the bars closed) at the Seven Stars Cafe was a wonder not to be missed, and for kids not yet old enough to go to bars it was the closest we could get to experiencing the atmosphere of a bar. The besotted crowd of our elders could get quite lively.
Dawn! I like that. What you say reminds me of the old film *Diner.* They had the Baltimore fries with gravy, and it was the place to be. :)