It’s almost the end of February here in old New Haven, and crunch time is getting too er…crunchy. Before I know it, the papers I’m pretending not to agonize about will be over, and I’ll be home. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be just a little homesick for some Californian sunshine and the carefree/tanned attitude.
My dad makes the BEST scrambled egg sandwiches. They’re light, golden brown, fluffy, and warm on toasted bread. Sometimes he adds slices of tomato in them if he’s making them for lunch instead of breakfast. Unlike traditional American scrambled eggs dumped in a skillet with melted butter, Chinese scrambled eggs are quick fried in a dollop of canola or vegetable oil at high heat. I did my best to replicate those settings with my tiny kitchen’s “fry” stove setting and my spray can of Pam (used quite a few extra squirts).
First I toasted some wheat bread stolen from the dining hall in my skillet (read: no toaster in my room).
While that was toasting, I threw together a salad that I packed in the Davenport dining hall, which, along with Pierson dining hall, has the best Yale College fare, in my opinion. Ingredients: edamame, diced pear, white raisins, roasted eggplant, a couple pieces of tofu, mesclun greens, and spinach with some balsamic vinegar and olive oil drizzled on top.
The toast was done after I finished futzing with the salad (in college the two things I’ve learned are efficiency and timing). Then, I sprayed the hell out of the Pam can. I know I said I used a few extra squirts, but really I used so much Pam I don’t think the 0 calorie reading was right anymore. As it started smoking, I dumped the salted and beaten eggs in. I love a good sizzle.
Here they are, after they’ve puffed and browned. I tried to make them as square as possible to fit the bread. I hate it when you have yummy eggs that don’t fill the bread and so all you get when you get to the corners is…bread:
I put my a bed of extra spinach from the salad onto one piece of toast, perched the eggs on top, added the last piece of toast, and cut my sandwich in half. I like eating things in fun pieces. Just kidding, I think it’s just easier to eat a meaty-ish sandwich when it’s cut in half.
Voila, here is my meal as it looked before I voraciously dug into it:
And now that I’ve had my little taste of home, I’m dreading the next week and a half a little less. But only by a little.