
Zen enthusiasts say that we need to live in the moment
more. Focus on the present. Shut out extraneous noise. Feel the air on your skin. We are always rushing around. We need to stop, live, exist, feel the right
now.
I am no expert on Zen, nor on meditation, but I do
appreciate the benefits of hitting the pause button and just…being. Looking back, I think I enjoyed it long
before I even thought to articulate it.
Take for instance my bath. Or, more accurately, my shower. That’s my pause button. When I shut the rest of the world out and
focus on nothing more than, well, bathing.
I don’t have a fancy bath, nor do I crave one. All my bathrooms have been relatively small
and my past hides a long trail of unused bath gels and special shampoos
forgotten. What I need in a bath is
simple: A strong shower (no gentle rain showers for me, I need something that
can beat 16 hours of work off my back), scalding water, and, preferable, a
window that lets in a little sunshine.
Hot water melting away my worries, striking me with enough strength to
burst into a halo of tiny diamonds shining in the sunlight – in these moments I
think of nothing else but the moment.
And suddenly, for a while at least, everything in right in the world.
These eggs? Will
make you believe it.
Scrambled Eggs
- 2 eggs, the best you can find or afford
- 2 tablespoons butter, I may have put more (most probably), cut into bits (the best butter you can find or afford)
- Fine sea salt
- Break the two eggs in a bowl and mix them well with a
fork. Add sea salt and mix to
incorporate.
- Pour the eggs into a small saucepan. Place the saucepan over a low flame. Start stirring your eggs (I use a wooden
spatula), adding the butter slowly, bit by bit.
- Keep stirring and adding the butter bit by bit. The eggs will start to thicken. You can add more butter, I won't tell. Just keep stirring until you reach a soft
velvety consistency.
- Transfer immediately to a plate and enjoy without
disturbance.
I piled the eggs onto a warm piece of pan de sal (a local
bread traditionally baked in a brick, wood-burning oven) I had just bought at
the market, but it would be equally good on its own or with your preferred
toast. No more though as you don’t want
to detract too much from these incredible eggs.
Good things come to those who wait, and this dish is a
prime example of that. Keep
stirring. Keep the heat low. Add the butter slowly, lazily. Do not rush.
Keep stirring. Do not worry that
you should have used your non-stick skillet and, oh, how the eggs might
stick. Do not answer the phone, toast
your bread, or get the milk out of the fridge.
Keep stirring. Stir gently but
make sure that you are scraping the bottom of the pan and getting to all the
sides. It’s a bit like making
custard. Keep stirring. Focus on the eggs. Live in this moment. It’s scrambled egg Zen.
Then you taste it.
And I don’t really know if this totally devastates your Zen or drives
you deeper into it, but it does something so intense that even the first time
you (I) saw Daniel Craig pales in comparison.
In my book, that means just beyond criminally intense. You lose yourself and find yourself all at
once. And suddenly, for a while at least, everything is right in the
world. Yes, eggs can do that if done
rightly. And if you let them.
It’s amazing how losing ourselves in such simple moments
can make us feel richly rewarded. Maybe
the Zen enthusiasts really do have something going there. Or maybe we could just all use a pause button…preferably
one that involves butter.



As this makes use of leftover chicken it is pretty
flexible in terms of quantities, so adjust based on what you have to work
with. Here are some of my notes: