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Eggs Bob

We actually had a sunrise this morning. I pay so much attention to sunrises because we can see the entire sunrise horizon from Alta Mira, all 47 degrees of it, from the summer solstice in June to the winter solstice in December. From the glider, we can tell where we are on the calendar by the place where the sun comes up.

This morning, I want to introduce “Eggs Bob.” No doubt there are other recipes similar to this one, and that predate it by years or hundreds of years, but Eggs Bob is, I am sure, unique in its origin.

“Bob” is Bob Cluck, whom I have known since grade school, in Abilene, Texas, in the 1950s. He and Marilyn, who are looking at either their 41st or 42nd anniversary, were in California sightseeing along Big Sur last week, and they drove down to San Diego to see us. Bob is an interesting man (just ask Marilyn), with an inquiring turn of mind. We always have the most interesting conversations. One evening we were talking about what we might have for breakfast.

“What do you think would happen,” Bob said, in his paced, deliberate style, “if you took a Ziploc bag, put the eggs in it, with onion, cheese, whatever you wanted, and just put the bag in boiling water?”

You see what I mean by unique origin. There were only a couple of things that kept me from saying, “Let’s try it and see.” The first was getting the eggs, onion, cheese, etc., out of the bag when they were done. The second was what the hot water might do to the bag plastic, in terms of a bad effect on the food, in the time it took the water to cook the eggs. Actually, I would have liked to see the results of my first reservation, getting the eggs out of the bag. It was the second reservation that stopped me. I am leery of plastic polymers, and how they might get into food via a boiled Ziploc bag, and, if a human ate it, if cancer might just pop straight up out of his skin before he could take a bite of toast.

I announced both of these to Bob, who nodded thoughtfully and agreed to my suggestion that we try a modified version of his idea.

Thus, “Eggs Bob.” For individual servings, you need Pyrex custard cups. Grease the cups with a little olive oil on a paper towel. In the bottom, sprinkle onions, peppers, tomatoes, salsa, chopped leftover meats or shrimp, whatever you like. On top of that, break two eggs. Sprinkle on some cheese, if you like.

Fill a skillet three-quarters full of water and bring it to a high simmer, not quite a boil. There is a technical term for this, “bain marie” or something, but just use a skillet three-quarters full of water. When the water simmers, carefully place the custard cups into the water (tongs are useful for this), that should come up not quite to the lip of the cups. Place a lid (glass, if you have it) on the skillet and let the eggs cook. This takes awhile, maybe 10 minutes. The whites firm up and the yolks sort of cloud over.

It’s best if the yolks stay a bit runny at the end. Otherwise you’ve just got a boiled egg. When I took ours out (with tongs and a hot pad), the center of the cup was still slightly jiggly. I served the cups on a plate, with bacon, toast and preserves (Texans love preserves). Dump the eggs or eat them from the cup, your choice. Marilyn and Bob chose the cup, I dumped mine.

They were pretty good. I would have liked my yolks runnier, but I don’t think you can achieve that and still get the whites properly done. I have had them once again, with a bit of chopped shrimp in the bottom, and of course there will be endless variations. I plan to serve Eggs Bob regularly for company, so I can tell the story of where they came from.

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Eggs Bob were delicious, especially with the toast and preserves. What made them special were the hands that prepared them. Thanks for the memory, Mike.
Love, Marilyn

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  • I am a journalist, educator, writing consultant and author, living in La Mesa, CA. I am a native of Texas, which shows in most of my work. I believe that anything is possible. When I was 35, I realized that the ideal life would be to have the imagination of a six-year-old, and the wisdom of a 65-year-old. I can still get to the imagination (as you can, simply by cutting away all the data you’ve learned from first grade on) and I now possess the wisdom of a 65-year-old. Being 65 can be unsettling – too late to plant trees and enjoy the shade – but the wisdom that comes with it is terrific compensation. I learned in 50th grade that, no matter how bad things get, there is always compensation. Now I am in the 60th grade, and I am learning things that I didn’t know in 59th. This September, I’ll start 61st grade, and learn things I don’t know now. To find what grade you’re in, start with the year you started 12th grade, and count up. My newest book is “Warbirds – How They Played the Game.” My new company is The Write Outsource, quality media writing on deadline, at www.writeoutsource.com. I am working on a book about the media, and I am about to revise my cookbook about home cooking on a tight budget, such as so many of us face at this time.
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