On Learning To Eat Eggs
Turns out 30 might be the new 3 as far as food adventures go.
I hated avocado until I was 32. I’d like to thank my good friend Guzman y Gomez for snapping me out of that phase. I forgot to ask for no guac on my burrito bowl one night and was too hangry to make a scene (for once) when it came out smothered in the stuff. So I ate it. Loved it. Have been obsessed with it ever since.
I’m trying to get that same level of love for eggs. I’ve gotten quiche down pat, have forced the odd fried egg down my throat (but am still iffy) and can cope with a scramble but prefer there to be loads of other elements to the dish.
Now, at 35, not only can I eat omelette but I can flip them too.