A Galilean Egg Scramble

More benediction than benedict.

I do not fear the man who has scrambled ten thousand eggs, but the man who has scrambled one egg ten thousand times. - Bruce Lee (paraphrased)

Galileo was mocked, censored and imprisoned for something he knew to be true.

He proved the earth revolved around the sun. This was beyond heresy as it challenged the socio-political power structure the Catholic Church had been constructing for over a thousand years.

This wasn’t just a discovery - it was a revolution whose shockwaves would ripple across the centuries.

It was Galileo’s commitment and ultimate vindication of the truth that set mankind forth on a new path towards scientific exploration.

It is with this degree of conviction that I share my truth, one with potentially greater societal implications, with you.

I make the best scrambled eggs in the world.

It's true. I’m well aware this statement may upend the fabric of our current times. I know revealing this puts me in a precarious position, especially with those burdened by inferior egg scrambling methods. However, truth is the noblest of man's earthly endeavors, and I am if nothing else, a man of the people.

And truth is valuable only to the extent that it is known.

To bring our species closer to Divine Truth I will demonstrate my recipe.

The dish start as most of my dishes do. With diced bacon and Kerry Gold Irish Butter (the one true Butter). A light sauté release the fat setting the foundation for the next phase - onions.

And I don't mean a little bit onion. Oh no. I mean a lot of onion.

Onion is just as much a star of this show as the eggs are. Few flavors known to man are as sublime as those provided by the savory umami semi-sweet caramelized onion. Skimping on them would be anathema to any with acute sensibilities. I chop a whole onion thinly cross-hatched and finely diced with a monstrously sized Chinese cleaver.

Sizzle and sizzle the onions go until they reach their pleasantly dark bronze peak. Too fast and they'll burn. An easy medium-low sizzle does the job fine.

Up until now nothing is abnormal. Bacon. Onions. Butter. But here is when things take a turn.

Cheese.

But not the cheese you're thinking about. Just about every basic cheese turns eggs into greasy gooey slop. Cheddar. Mozzarella. Provolone. American. Great on their own, but repugnant with eggs.

No cheese is better suited for scrambled eggs than....

….wait for it.....

Feta Cheese.

Yes, feta cheese.

Feta cheese is it's own category. It's dry, chunky, crumbly umami character pairs perfectly with the eggs' creaminess.

In goes a heaping chunk of feta right into the bacon-onion-butter bath.

Speaking of eggs…

Never trifle with those soulless styrofoam-carton eggs with the sad dull-yellow yolks. Those come from slave chickens with sad lives.

I get happy eggs from happy chickens.

That typically means those from a neighbor or local farmer's market. (If I’m feeling particularly inspired I’ll get duck eggs….but don’t get me started).

The eggs sit in the dugout reaching room temperature and venture cracked into a bowl. Their robust orange-yellow yolks are like that of a serene sun setting in a luminous sky.

I give them a hearty whisking. The more whisking - the airier, lighter and fluffier they become.

By this point the bacon-butter-onion-feta marmalade has coalesced and the feta has developed a pleasant crusty texture.

I drop the heat to begin the final - and most important - phase.

The Slow Scramble

Of all the ways to cook an egg - frying, boiling, sunny side up/down, over easy, and poached - none bring eggs closer to their apogee as does the slow scramble.

The quick scramble, for the lazy, impatient, and uneducated, is the perfect way to rob an egg of it's delicate nuance.

The slow scramble, like all great things, takes time and patience.

I pour the whisked eggs into a moderately-hot pot and immediately begin scrambling.

Oh yeah, I said pot. Not a pan. Only a pot will serve as a suitable vessel.

The scrambling never ceases. If any portion of the egg cooks before the rest, the whole thing is ruined.

Only a graceful low and slow simmer evenly cooks the eggs. I stir and stir for a meditative 5 to 10 minutes.

The eggs must be cooked just to the point where they can barely be considered cooked. Undercooked eggs are too liquid. Overcooked eggs are ill-fit for even the lowliest of peasants. The perfect texture is best suited for spoons - not forks.

Only once the eggs begin to glisten in the rich morning sun do I know they are ready.

For the final piece of the puzzle....

Bread.

And by that I mean...sourdough bread moderately toasted with (more) Kerrygold Irish Butter serves as the foundation.

It’s soft delicate crunch and lightly acidic sour flavor juxtaposes perfectly with the rich creamy savory velvety and slightly sweet eggs.

For the finale I spritz a touch of lemon for brightness, sprinkle of touch of thick flaky Maldon sea salt, and a light sprinkle of chopped herbs from the garden.

With these final touches my eggs vaunt onto the plates and into the tummies of the gods that sit atop Mount Olympus.

To those unaccustomed to such flavor, the first bite is a shock. Eyes close. Time slows. Problems of the material world vanish. Eaters sit in quiet contemplation.

This brief encounter with the creamy fatty divine is enough to turn agnostics into believers.

And it is with that I present to you, my dear reader, the best scrambled eggs in the world.

Prosecute me. Torture me. Imprison me. But tastes my eggs and you will know the truth as I do.