You gotta break a few eggs

Breakfast eggs are one of the simple things in life. Today, Annie and I were cooking our breakfast side by side -- she, with a mix of lovely veggies, some cheese, and a bit of pesto I'd made a few weeks ago. For myself, I was making a southeastern/western omlet -- onions, peppers (green and jalapeno), tomato and southern "smithfield ham" cured sidemeat. We have so many dietary restrictions in the house. She won't eat pork, Gavin shouldn't eat mushrooms.... In the evenings, we eat together when we can -- which we try to make all the time. I plan meals ahead a week. Everything is planned to accomodate the allergies, preferences, neuroses and tastes of the inmates, for the common meals. No major element of a meal excludes anyone, but perhaps a side might, and often condiments (for example, a splash of toasted sesame oil added at the table).

Our breakfasts were different, but we cooked side by side. Both were delicious. We all make sacrifices in the house, and puzzle at each other's food foibles. On a good day, I think of it as cooking in sonnet form -– the restrictions and formalities making an interesting framework. Or perhaps more, with the some folks regretfully giving up eggs or shrimp to allergies, I should think of it as playing the blues in pots and pans. On bad days, I just remember, you have to break a few eggs to make an omlet.