In Pursuit of Eggcellence: The finale

By Camilla Samuel

For my birthday this year, my mom got me an egg cup that is shaped like a knight. It has a little spoon for a lance. You take off the helmet, whack the eggshell with the little spoon until it opens, and eat the egg out of the suit of armor like a ravenous dragon. I highly recommend the experience. All I need now is a hoard.

That aside, as we conclude the semester and my column comes to an end, I have an announcement to make. Beloved readers, I have done it. On an unassuming April evening, I made the perfect dorm room soft-boiled egg. Rain pattered gently; my desk lamp cast a soft glow on the room. I sat with bated breath, ramen beside me, and tapped the egg gently against the table. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Attempt #4

For my final column of the semester, I decided to return to my microwave roots. With my deadline looming, a chill in the air and a number of eggs to eat before returning home for the semester, I decide on soup for dinner.

Setting the Scene: April 2022 — a rainy night. I return half-soaked from a foray to Carm, where I have secured my latest idea for ramen additives: a cup of salad bar edamame. I put in frozen peas a couple of months ago, and that was pretty good, but I’ve run out and haven’t made it back to Davis. So smuggled edamame it is. I am once again catching up on “Riverdale” (2017–). In case you were wondering, Archie is invulnerable, Jughead is deaf and can read minds, and Cheryl is being possessed by the spirit of her ancestor who was burned as a witch. Truly the best show on television.

Methodology: I placed the egg into my small mug, boiled water for the ramen and poured some of it over the egg. After 1 ½  minutes in the microwave, I just let it sit in the microwave for two minutes. I carefully lifted it out with a spoon, stuck it in the freezer and left it there until I remembered to get it out. I’d estimate about three minutes.

First impression: Forgetting it in the freezer for three minutes seems to have really helped. For once, I do not feel like the skin is peeling off my fingers.

Second impression: The shell is coming off nicely… very promising.

Third impression: It’s perfect. It’s glorious. The yolk holds together while I drop the egg into my cup and when speared by a chopstick spills out thickly into the broth and swirls around the noodles. I may have achieved my life’s purpose. Someone call Cook’s Illustrated.

As you all know, this is a very scientific column. Of course, for my result to be science, it must be replicable. There are more experiments to be made, more eggs to be boiled. The glorious possibilities of the summer await. I have GOT to get myself a lab coat.


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