Food For Thought

1 Sep

Today was one of those days where I wanted that simple and delectable fried egg for a snack as soon as I got home. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about when I say that sometimes you know exactly what you want to eat minus having made any (elaborate) plan to work towards eating it. Fried eggs; they’re a sure shot of comfort. I think I’ve asked friends settled seas and oceans away from me to make fried eggs for me. Haven’t fried eggs featured at that exact moment when you’re about to hit the sack at a sleepover? And then everyone gets excited and the menu sort of extends to become more than just fried eggs since caring friends are anyway taking the trouble to get out of bed for your random fix. They also make best sense when you’re back home after a late night of drinking and need some comforting, wholesome goodness that will absorb all that you want out of your system asap.

Eggs fried in butter…they’re the fried eggs you should eat. Trace a fancy design with cold butter on a heated pan; trust me it’s fun. And it’s good if you get carried away and find a small puddle of salty, sizzling, bubbling butter waiting for its purpose to be served. Crack those eggs open right in and let the magic take place. Crackle salt, flick pepper, watch the yolk jiggle just as much as you’d like it to and slide it right off onto a crisp, propah, brown slice of heaven we call toast. 5 minutes to heaven, it cannot get simpler than that. And you’d want to fry those eggs in butter, trust me. It makes all the difference and in case the thought of butter brings calorific palpitations to the diet freak in you, did anyone ever say how important butter/fat is for general bodily health? Of course I’m no one to get all medical on something I turn to only for hedonistic purposes, but it’s true. Ask your favourite family elder.

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This post isn’t about fried eggs and I’m sorry I took you on such a deviation, but it’s clear just how important fried eggs are to me. These life savers deserve a post of their own. Soon.

Of course I began wording this post when I started doodling on a pan with a cold stick of butter. And needless to say, I got carried away and landed with a gorgeous pool of butter. I cracked one egg open and it glided ever so perfectly onto the puddle. The words in my head also sewed themselves together into beautiful strings of expressions. And then I cracked the second egg open and this happened. All those strings of perfection shattered just like this silly yolk that couldn’t contain itself. I’d gotten lost and punctured it by mistake. Eeeps. Do you know how this feels to a person anal about structure and perfection? It’s powerful enough to generate countless tongue-clicks, irritated expressions and feelings of stupidity.

But then, it’s not like the egg tasted any worse. Of course it wouldn’t. I savoured it and then made my way here, even more convinced about the perfection of my broken string of thoughts. And so they begin.

As annoying as the past few nights have been, for reasons more than one, today seems like a day where the light at the end of the tunnel seems to finally be nearing. But you know the cynical side of that statement, don’t you? Not hoping it’s an oncoming train instead, I’m taking each day as it comes with these assurances, of sorts.

There is no perfection and there is no guarantee that the world will unfold as you want it to. I’m not sure when I began thinking everything in my jurisdiction was under my control. So it’s no surprise that dealing with situations, circumstances and events that aren’t tailored to your comforts is freaking hard. I also realise just how moulded the relationships we share with our families and close ones are – we’ve tailor-made our interactions and reactions to fit so snugly into the grooves of the other’s, that even friction has its own space and special fit minus the pain of what raw, untapped friction can feel like. Isn’t that a comforting thought to all us comfort-lovers?

It’s heartening to imagine and believe that we’ve got it all under control and in place. It’s good while it lasts. My beliefs in the were shaken over the weekend or maybe I took my sweet time to become aware of it. No wonder they say it’s good to shake things up, mess with it all, create some chaos. Oh wait, I have the perfect words to compliment what I’m trying to express here.

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I think it helps remove the cobwebs and gets those neatly placed gears of comfort in motion so we aren’t static free particles strung together without purpose or without an aim.

I’m thinking that unplanned, broken egg yolk strung my scattered thoughts together. See, eggs record yet another purpose for their existence – which is to remind crazy-haired, rose-tinted glasses wearing girls of certain realities.

It still tasted darn good, butter and all. It looks like not all chaos is tasteless or harmful; I’m guessing it’s just how we choose to see it. With or without that puddle of bubbling butter.

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