June 20, 2012
Two out of three of my closest friends do not like eggs. How could this be? If I had to choose one thing on this planet that I love the most and could eat everyday, it would be the egg. They are sacred! So versatile! They can be served scrambled, boiled, poached, fried… and RAW.
I’ve discussed the matter of the egg with my two friends thoroughly, like a counselor and her patients, trying to get to the core of the matter. Interestingly, they both have very specific reasons for not liking eggs. For Kristi, it is texture, and also the entire concept of eating the fetus of a chicken. She’s crazy.
For Yoko, it is also textural, but in very specific ways — she can’t stand the custardy-ness once they are fried or scrambled–the gooey-ness of the yolk versus the whites. However, she has recently jumped over a hurdle and has discovered she likes raw eggs. So this post is dedicated to her.
My first recollection of a bowl of raw egg over rice was at my grandma’s place in Chiba. I must have been around 10 years old. The yolk was bright orange and she would tell me to dribble some soy sauce over it and meshiagare (go ahead and eat). It was shocking, but I felt as though a whole new world opened up to me. I scarfed down my bowl while my grandpa had his morning toast and coffee.
This however was not something I could do outside of my grandma’s house, where the eggs were orange and magical. The salmonella craze of the 90s in the U.S. made sure of that. I became deathly afraid of eating eggs raw, even runny. How sad.
These days, I’m eating them raw often. Thanks to local farmers and friends with chickens running around in their backyards, I can trust that my eggs are fresh and ready to crack open over a steaming bowl of rice any time. Do I get the runs? Eh, once in a blue moon. But usually it’s fine.
When I get fresh eggs from my friends, I get giddy thinking about cracking it over rice. I make sure to make a new pot of white rice, just for the occasion. I suppose that step of this process is not very lazy of me. In an emergency, I’ll microwave some frozen rice.
Sprinkle some furikake and drizzle some soy sauce over a just-made bowl of rice.
The best part is poking into the yolk, and watching the yellow pour into the bowl.
At dinner last night with Yoko she said, “I don’t like eggs, but I enjoy watching people eat them,” while I was munching away at my grilled uzura (quail eggs). I thought that was a very sweet thing to say. Someday, I hope she will enjoy them with me. But for now, we can enjoy raw eggs together.