Soft Scrambled Eggs for One

It's raining again in Georgia. It feels like it will never end, this rain. We get lucky with a glorious day of clear skies, crisp and clean, every now and again, but for the most part its just rain, steady and heavy and wet. But it is not cold, nor even quite chilly, and so the usual fall fare which makes staying inside and avoiding the downpours almost enjoyable don't hold quite the same draw.

I've found myself craving something light, but rich, simple, but decadent, something that matches the contradictions that Mother Nature has given us. And so, today, during a particularly mundane lunch, I scrambled eggs, and plopped them on some toast, and looked out my kitchen window while I watched Henry desperately trying to play outside while avoiding getting wet.

Oh, but these eggs are not mundane. No, sir, they are elevated by one very simple ingredient: time.

There is almost nothing worse than an egg hurried along to its end by scorching heat and a too quick hand. But coddled and gently coaxed, the eggs become something else entirely. Like a thick custard, only barely holding its shape, the eggs are simply perfect as they are.

This recipe is roughly adapted from Judy Rodgers' Zuni Cafe Cookbook. I made them first years ago for Christmas breakfast, using a dozen eggs, a whole baguette, a stick of butter, and some garlic. The whole process, from start to finish took nearly half an hour, slowly, slowly, stirring a pan full of eggs over heat which would barely keep a simmer going, adding a tablespoon of butter one after the other, using a wooden spoon rubbed with half a garlic clove. And then, after what seemed like an inordinately long time for scrambled eggs, they were all of a sudden done. Finished, a huge pan of custardy eggs, rich with butter and hinting at the fragrance of garlic. Ms. Rodgers offers variations, adding caviar to some, truffles to others, but, in all, the process is as simple as slowly stirring.

A lunch of two eggs is much faster, taking no more than 7 or 8 minutes from first crack to bite, but just as fulfilling. I use just a knob of butter and no garlic, but I keep the wooden spoon moving, drawing figure eights through the cooking eggs continuously until the eggs are almost done. You don't want to cook them on the heat until they're finished; by the time you spoon them out of the pan and onto the toast they'll be overcooked. Rather, wait until they are "mostly done," but still a little wet, then kill the heat, plate your toast, give the eggs one or two last stirs, then plop them over and enjoy.

Soft-Scrambled Eggs for One
1 slice country style bread, thickly sliced
1 tbsp butter
2 eggs
Salt and pepper to taste

Toast your bread. Over low heat, start to melt the butter. Before the butter is fully melted, add your eggs and continuously stir until the butter is completely melted and the eggs have thickened to the consistency of a thick custard. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Then eat with your toast.