If I had to make a list of the things that I absolutely hate, eggs would fit comfortably in my top three, right next to New Jersey highway traffic and spiders.
I feel a surge of discomfort that runs from my brain to my stomach every time I’m in the realm of a cooked egg. Though I know better than to judge food by its appearance, texture and taste are absolute deal-breakers for me. Eggs are just as displeasing to taste as they are to see and smell. This goes for sunny-side up, scrambled, hard-boiled, soft-boiled, poached.
Hell, prepare them anyway you want, but don’t ask or expect me to join in on your faux sense of indulgence.
Why Am I Doing This?
Lately, friends and co-workers who were in disbelief that I don’t eat these miniature chicken-mistakes have been putting me on the spot. One too many conversations about this topic within the span of a few days finally persuaded me to give eggs another chance to prove themselves.
I couldn’t think of a better way to build up tolerance for a food that I despise than to fuse it with a food that I love. Why not try eggs on a burger?
Ordering
I hit Zinburger right after my workout on an early Thursday afternoon. I confidently ordered the hand-cut fries first, then the Plain & Simple Burger, topped with lettuce, tomatoes and mayonnaise. I couldn’t believe the words that came out of my mouth next. “And could you add a fried egg on top?” I asked the waitress.
The fries came out first and I devoured about half of them before my burger arrived five minutes later. Just as the waitress placed my plate in front of me, the fried egg was the first ingredient I got a whiff of. My stomach was uneasy just from gazing at the yolk oozing onto the bottom of the bun. I took a long sip of my water and followed it with a long, deep breath to prepare myself for the first chomp.
Eating the Burger
I took the skewer out of the middle of the burger, dabbed some ketchup onto the corner and got to work. I didn’t recall tasting any egg on the first bite, but its presence was felt on every subsequent bite.
My second, third, fourth and fifth bites induced some of the longest chews I have ever experienced. It was psychologically unpleasant having to prep this stinky, moist, flubbery disk for digestion as it was caught in the middle of a great burger. I really contemplated spitting it out a couple of times out of complete discontent for the eggs specifically. Instead, I stayed in the game by downing some fries and ketchup to help mask the taste.
By the time I got to my sixth bite, my burger had collapsed into a miserable-looking mess on the right side of my plate. I was defeated and my appetite was ruined. The fries were almost gone. My burger was lukewarm at this point and the eggs were ice cold. I used a fork to pick at what remained of the patty and lettuce. I left the rest of the soggy bun and the eggs alone. I have to give credit to my hunger for even finishing that much of it.
I learned a couple of valuable lessons from this awful moment in food history.
1. Never ruin your burger with eggs.
2. Never eat eggs again, Will. They just aren’t for you.