I made eggs today

Oh yeah. Not some scrambled child's play either. No, this was the boss-level of all eggs. That's right: over easy.

There was a light scent of smoldering PAM drifting through the kitchen. As the grey morning light softly glowed over the stainless steel of the sink, gently gleaming in the shadows, you could see thin wisps of smoke just starting to form from the quietly hissing pan where the blue flame flickered, little azure flashes like the sheet lightning before a summer storm. And indeed, the elements were converging in slowly growing nebula of flame, matter and heat. Somewhere in the human imagination, alchemy was roiling the forces of the universe. An orange spark, the crackle of grease as liquid transformed to a flash of smoke, the sphere of warmth growing in the room. It was clear testimony by the forces of nature: something was about to be cooked.

I approached the pan. I'd seen this bitch before many times. It wasn't hate. It wasn't love. Rivalry? We both knew it was my job to tame it, and it's job to burn free as light from any star. I was the agent of order, it was the spirit of chaos. Anything could happen, and often did. Maybe the whites would get singed, maybe I'd win and have runny yolks that didn't break. But you never knew. That was the risk we both agreed to. In the end, there was no real winner, just witnesses to chaos and order, and we both accepted that neither of us knew how the fight would end...

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Hola, Reddito!

I had managed to hide my smirk. No need to be rude to something that could fling searing grease at me later in some grudge. I had learned some things. Some call it cooking, some call it physics. There was no magic in my tricks, it was all method and order. The magic is the adversary, fighting me with unknowns. Is the pan evenly hot? Is the pan centered where I think it is? Is it just too soon to start? These were the unknowns of the universe, the questions and puzzles I would have no answer for until the moments of decsion had already passed, possibly reaping order from a maelstrom of moving factors, possibly trapping me in a downward spiral of defeat from which there was no escape, forcing me to play along long after I knew I was defeated and the yolk was already broken, condemning me to a bothced breakfast yet again.

Order. I am the human. I possess reason. A knowledge of physics. I have an outcome only in my imagination, a form, a shape, a clear image. Across from me is nature, wild and capricious, a silently raging tempest like the leviathan currents charging beneath the placid surface of the sea. But I have a mission. I will ride that current, break it like a wild stallion on the plains, harness it and drive it towards my goal. Or is it only fate; just a destiny that nature decided before I even thought to begin.

The shell of the egg crunches over a tumbler. No more fussing with empty shells over the hot pan, trying to throw them away in distraction while the pan is already shaping the egg for me. No, this time I am in control. I will dump the egg in the tumbler, calmly, gracefully discard the shells, and then pour the tumbler precisely and deliberately into the pan. But not a level pan. No, I was tired of losing that game. This time I would tilt the pan to one side as the egg poured in, collecting it in a single firm mass on one side instead of letting it spread and scatter like an explosion of albumen...
...

This is one of the most beautiful things I've ever read.

... Instantly, the pan knew something had changed. Where were the singed edges? Why hadn't the yolk traveled to one side, making it more fragile? What was this new, oval shape taking place amidst the random pops and erratic crackling?

We both felt it. Something had changed. Order was rising. Tricks and anarchy were bending to order and method. The white grew solid and firm in place. The edges congealed. The hissing became pitched and then quiet. The tide of ocean had receded, the surface was swelling, the wave was almost here, but not yet, not too soon-

Watch. Watch. Wait for it- wait, the moment has to be just right and

NOW

The spatula slid beneath the egg like a serpents tongue, quick and piercing. The pan, which had not anticipate this well timed, synchronized strike, never expected what came next; being tilted towards the spatula as gravity, one of natures own forces, its own law, compelled the egg to slide over the attacking utensil....

... There's that moment in a dream before you know its a dream, when you are only wondering what is real. In this moment, I am in that fugue state. Time slows, everything comes in flashes of forgotten laughter and the echoes of faded rage. Was I a child then, or am I a child now? Faces I remember, voices that I don't. How do I know this place if I've never been here? That moment right before I broke the ribbon at the finish line. That look in her eyes in that instant we both had what we fantasized about for so long. And there I am. There it is. I can see it. The past, present and future all at once. 'Look up' a voice says. 'Look up, you're there- Look!'

I see my wrist turning the spatula with the involuntary grace of a bow sliding across violin strings. I'm not even thinking about it, it's just happening. I'm tuned in. From the noise, I've made music. The yolk is almost completely turned over. The white is sliding right into place. Its happening. Its happening right now. Sweet dear Jesus Christ, its actually happening.

The egg is flipped. The pan howls in a hissing defeat, screaming in tones of raging oil and snarling pops and cracks. The egg is completely flipped and frying in boundless energy, and the whole kitchen seems to fill with the crackling and sibilant pops erupting from the pan, like lightning unleashed from the heavens....

The pan just lays there, its rage dissipating into heat and light to return to the hidden voids of the universe right in my little kitchen. The sizzling begins to quiet. Sure, I have to ease it out of the pan in just a minute, but we both know its over. Chaos lost today. Nature was tamed. Order prevailed, and human imagination triumphed. Method, precision, these were my weapons against the darkness of the cosmos. Atoms collide, molecules crash together, but its all in order. Alchemy has won the day. The elements, energy; it all had to yeild to order and method.

And now, I have over-easy dippy eggs. And the yolk on this toast is quite tasty.
...

That's very kind, thank you.

Not frying bacon first, then making your potatoes and eggs in the rendered fat...

BOO

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