The other day the boys wanted to dye Easter eggs. Fine, I said, so we went and got all of our supplies together : Eggs, Paz dye, other artsy implements in case someone was feeling creative were all gathered. We got the water to boiling and carefully dropped the eggs into it, waiting a good amount of time before removing them in case they weren’t completely solid (which is always a bad thing). While letting them cool it hit me like a brick in the face – the smell of those nasty things.
Yuck. I had to leave the kitchen.
Man, I hate the smell of hard boiled eggs, don’t know why, it just smells terrible to me. Like this earthy, wet, warm smell that permeates the entire kitchen. About twenty minutes later, with the aide of a full-torqued celing fan, and the kitchen was no longer a no-man’s-land for my nose.
But this brings up something that I have been dealing with for a long time – my unmitigated hate of white foods.
There is something about the color white, when applied to something someone is eating, that churns my stomach. Milk, eggs, yogurt, marshmallows, when served by themselves, just do a number on my reflexes. When served with something else, though, it’s not so bad. Marshmallows by themselves? Couldn’t look more upappetizing, but when mixed with chocolate and graham crackers, they become something heavenly.
Plain milk? No. Chocolate milk? Oh lord yes.
Popcorn is another issue. I love popcorn, which, in it’s natural state, is mostly white. However, it is delicious and usually buttery/salty, two flavors that I could eat for days together.
Maybe this is really about how I hate hard boiled eggs. Consistency, smell, the shell you have to crack, that nasty looking tennis ball colored yolk in the middle of them. If anybody ever sent me to Guantanamo, all they would have to do was boil some eggs and give me a big glass of milk. “Excuse me, sir, I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just get those things out of here.”