Today, she taught me a recipe that her daddy makes (which is sort of funny, as I'm the one who first taught him to cook. This is not my way of making eggs, though, so I don't know where he got it. Not from his mother: Rosa says she can't do it right.)
|Egg sandwiches à la Ray, as told by Rosa
|You whisk up the eggs and milk in a bowl. Lots of milk. The milk makes them fluffy. (She stirred the eggs with a fork and showed me: "This is the color they should be. Not quite white." Lumps of egg white remained but all the yolks were blended in.) Pour them into a pan and push them around, toward the middle, and around the sides. Turn them off and let them finish on their own.|
So we made this thing, her instructing me through the steps, and me asking questions.
Me: Do you want grease in the pan?
Her: Not oil, but grease, yes.
Me: What kind? Bacon grease, butter, oil, what?
Her: No, no grease. Just put them in.
So she poured them in. And they did not stick.
Her: Now stir them with the spatula.
After they were mostly cooked but still sort of liquidy-edged, she told me to turn off the pan.
Me: But they're not done yet.
Her: They'll cook on their own now.
I used toast, but she wanted bread. "It's really good with mayonnaise on the bread." So we put mayo on our bread.
Me: Should we put ham or cheese with it?
Me: What kind? Colby jack, swiss or american? (The current contents of the cheese drawer.)
And that's it. No salt, no pepper, no herbs, just eggs and cheese on bread. With mayo, of course. Surprisingly good, too.