Sam I am

I do not like my eggs with ham, I do not like my ham with Sam, I do not like Sam.
I don't like eggs.

I am in egg hell. I work for the summers in a restaurant and eggs rule. I mix eggs with cream, whisk the hell out of the yolks with a blender and scrambled eggs they are. But over easy, sunny side up. poached, all these ova are sightly squishy, gooey, and icky. Coagulated on the spoon, sticking to the pan, shells in the garbage reeking of discarded calcium, I don't like eggs.


Childhood traumas. Humpty Dumpty eggs. According to the rhyme H.D. had a big fall, the fall, and the king's horses ( who must have had thumbs and tools) and the king's men (who were not guarding H.D.) couldn't put him together again.

Sounds like a political strategy. In my day though Humpty Dumpty eggs meant break eggs over toast and let the icky, yellow yolk goo and glue all over the little toast soldiers. We were not fooled. It is icky, it is sticky, and eggs suck; or you can suck eggs.

So I am not a fan, of the ova, the pre-baby bird, the chicken-interuptus, the DNA that wasn't. And salmonella, Caesar's dressing, the whisking into carbonarra, all are not my choice.

It is not about raw. I can gleefully scarf down sashimi tuna, yellow tail, beef carpaccio which still says moo, and beef which ran by the grill. Eggs just remind me as they coagulate of yellow blood, of Elmer's glue gone bad, and cement.

So what am I doing this summer? eggs. That's right, I get to cook them for those who still think that undeveloped chicken proteins are just dandy.

My friend once married to a Russian tells me that his ex-wife and daughter, children of Stalin's privations, would eat the soft boiled eggs, sucking them, and then in a crackling, crunching display of carnivorous delight, crunch the eggshells for the calcium. Here cowboys use eggs to settle the grounds. Stalin to home on the range, but not on my range.

How to close? No eggs, thank you Sam. Not for eggs Sam I am, I will not have them cold, I will not have them boiled, I will not have them scrambled, I will not have them trampled. You go for it, I will rather have a steak. Raw.