Eating embryos and what not
I have this natural tendency to take anything normal, say eggs, and shed a new light on its being…Which is why I felt compelled to refer to this source of protein as an embryo, though I could’ve said chicken abortion, and I bet you would never see this little oval shell the same again. Ever. Chicken abortion. Scary.
I have my egg white days far too often, but when I’m feeling a bit more inspired, I go all out. There are times when I crave the desire to bask in solitude moments with yolk all over my face and hands. Come on, everyone can relive that moment, where you bite into your breakfast sandwich or Eggs Benedict and bam, the rest is art. In no time, the yolk explodes, leaving no hopes for sophisticated manners or successfully pulling off conquering your dish without slime dripping down your hands and running down your chin. That is, unless you indulge in fried eggs with a fork, in that case, shame on you.
I am appreciative to Whole Foods for nicely packaging a frozen bag consisting of kale, mustard and collard greens. I could go do the supermarket and buy three different bunches of these plants, but that would require me washing, drying and cutting them, in which case I would assess that this is way too much work for a lazy Sunday morning, so I would have to resort to cereal or oatmeal instead. Anyways, there is no magic here. I sautéed those veggies with some sliced onions on the pan, and threw them on my toasted, sprouted oatmeal bread and placed my eggs on top and proceeded by inhaling as if this were my last meal (the mentality I seem to take on with every meal I consume.)
There’s a nice little before and after up in there. If you look with a microscope, you can see there are a few remnants of greens spread throughout my white ceramic plate. Look again, more closely if needed. That’s simply because my grandma always told me it was important to leave a little bite of something on the plate, because it was more ladylike than scraping it clean. What happens after the picture is taken is history, and stays in the apartment.