Scrambled Egg with Butter

Sometimes food just makes you feel something. It's not that it makes you feel full or fuzzy or anything else. It just reminds you of a time or a moment when you felt something. I made myself scrambled eggs with butter tonight for dinner. A fairly standard light dinner for most people. But to me whenever my brain recognises the taste of scrambled eggs with butter then my brain conjures up the vision of my father cooking.

To be frank my father is not a good cook. The last time I remember him making dinner then he made a stew that managed to taste like dirt. Now when people say that then they usually mean figuratively like it's a way to say that it just tastes bad. But when I say that my fathers stew tastes like dirt I mean literally. After I had one bite of it then I spat it out. I then stared very carefully down at the stew and realised that I hadn't accidentally eaten potting mix instead of stew instead to my horror my dinner just tasted like dirt. To this day I still don't know if my father decided to add a touch of dirt as a joke or if he just somehow managed to accidentally isolate the taste of dirt using ingredients from the spice cabinet.

I must give my father his due. He can make wonderful scrambled eggs. He always puts in a fair bit of butter and cooks them perfectly. I think he may even dabble with adding a little bit of salt and pepper.. He doesn't make them often. In fact I've only ever seen him make them for my mother to give her breakfast in bed. I would usually crawl into bed beside my mother once she had her breakfast as the sun streamed into her bedroom through the windows. Then I'd just lie next to her while she flipped through NEXT magazine. In that moment I felt safe and serene.

Now that's how I feel whenever I buttery scrambled eggs.