Scrambled Eggs - Take One

The recipe seemed easy. It called for six large eggs, six tablespoons of low-fat milk, and some butter for frying. It also called for three dashes of salt, which caused Brit some concern. Additionally, Ethan was quite sure that black pepper might enhance the flavor. “The book does not say that though,” whispered Brit.

“Cookbooks are guides, Brit. Not Bibles,” replied Ethan. He paused looking over a letter that he was reading. Tapping the paper, he smiled to her. “Unless you are baking. Then you may wish to stick to the recipe as baking is a bit like alchemy. There is an art to it.” Brit puffed her cheeks and looked at the recipe again shifting uncomfortably. Placing his letter aside, he said encouragingly, “You can follow the instructions as they are written. Then we shall assess what to change.”

Brit nodded and found a small bowl. She changed to a larger bowl after adding the fourth egg. Using a fork, she meticulously removed broken bits of shell. “Oh no. I did not heat a large non-stick skillet.” Turning from the bowl of eggs, she fished about for a skillet.

Ethan said, “Maybe reading the entire recipe would be the better plan. Then you would know what to do and in what order it should be done.”

Beaming at him, Brit said, “That’s a way good plan.” She sat at the table and read the book again carefully making pictorial notes on a separate piece of paper. Comparing the notes to the cookbook, she looked up satisfied. Ethan helped her adjust the heat to “medium” after she pointed out there were no markings on the stove. Placing the skillet on the heat, Brit went back to adding the milk. She paused with the salt. “How much is a dash?”

“A dash is…” Ethan rubbed his chin. “Just bounce the shaker three times in the bowl.”

“Is that a dash?” Brit asked.

Ethan gave her another confident smile, “We can add more than take it away. Let us try that for now.” Brit carefully bounced the shaker three times over the bowl. Looking at her notes, he said, “And now, you should beat it vigorously for 2 minutes.” Seeing her hesitation, he motioned what he thought he should do.

“You mean mix them up lots?” She held the bowl peering into it.

Ethan nodded affirmatively, “Indeed. They are called ‘scrambled’. Brit started to stir the eggs after peering up at the clock to keep time. Ethan watched her with a hint of amusement. Brit had been enjoying the small cabin and playing house. Her hair framed her face as she worked. Noting the stove, he picked up a ribbon and walked behind her as she stirred. “When cooking, I wish you to tie your hair back, baby.” He could not help but shudder at the brief thought of what fire could do to both of them.

Ethan helped Brit add the butter to the skillet and watched as she poured in the egg mixture a bit too soon. The sizzle caused her to pause. Using a flat wooden spoon, she started to stir the eggs to the center as it said in the cookbook. Almost immediately clots of yellow egg started to form. Brit’s eyes widened as if she were witnessing magic. She continued to stir until all of the yellowy egg mixture had congealed and the outsides looked wet.

“Brit, it says you should break apart all of the big pieces and flip them over,” Ethan said as he pointed to the line in the book watching as Brit followed his instructions. Brit watched and counted the extra time to cook the eggs before scooping them out onto a plate. Ethan turned off the flame smirking, “And the last line is salt and pepper to taste.”

“What does that mean,” asked Brit.

“It means that you add salt and pepper until it is how you best enjoy it.” Brit nodded and Ethan gestured to the table. Brit nibbled her lower lip realizing she had forgotten to make toast. Ethan chuckled, “It does not matter. You can make toast later as it would be better, I think, than cold eggs.”

Shrugging, Brit grinned as she slid onto her chair and watched as Ethan brought the salt and pepper with him to face her. She ate the eggs slowly sprinkling a few grains of salt and/or pepper with each bite. Finally, she announced, “I like the eggs with salt and a tiny bit of pepper.”

Ethan chuckled and said, “Then we should write that in your book.” He picked up a pencil adding the note as Brit finished her eggs. When she was cleaning up, he asked, “Were the eggs good?”

“They were good, but they were not as good as when other people make them,” Brit replied. Ethan frowned and reread the recipe thinking that Brit had followed it reasonably well. Lisping, Brit said, “They were still yummy.”

Flipping through pages, Ethan said, “I am sure that we can find how to make them as you like them. This is but a start.” He placed the book aside and turned to her as she finished clearing the table. “You are yummy but that does not mean that I do not desire ways to see how I can improve on your perfection.”

Grabbing her up, he gave her several playful bites until she was giggling while squirming in his hold. Ethan continued until her heart was racing and then he bit deeply and drank several long sips while holding her closely. She melted against him fluidly making him think of the butter in the pan. As he drank, he swore he could taste the pepper. It was seemed like a memory of some dream.

Doing Things Alone

For Brit, the most exciting part of the trip was not the clandestine flight. It was not the elegance of the spectacular Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Munich with the suite that had uncovered windows that faced north allowing her an unobstructed view of the city. Ethan noticed that Brit spent time gazing out of the windows, and she also enjoyed the stretch limo that took them to the most exclusive places each night of their stay. The food was predictably excellent the night that Ethan took Brit to dine on a saddle of Whitford Hill deer smothered in dark chocolate and spice jus. Regardless, neither of those items made as much impact as when they checked out and Ethan accepted keys to the fiery red Mercedes. He held the door for Brit to get in as she stood in the stunned realization that a driver would not be taking them on the second leg of their trip. Ethan smirked, “Are you waiting for sunrise to continue our trip, Brit?”

Giggling, she hopped into the car and slid back against the buttery leather still blinking at him as he adjusted the mirrors. “I didn’t know that you really could drive, Ethan.”

Motioning to her seatbelt, he put his own on as she did. “I am full of talent, baby,” he chuckled with a wink. Turning the key, the car purred. Brit beamed at him. Her bright smile caused him to smile. “Well,” he explained with a wave of his hand. “You did say that we rarely do anything alone once we leave home.” She continued to look at him as she nuzzled a cheek against the leather of the seat. “I suppose I felt that perhaps we should stray from home more on our own.” Tapping his fingers, he mentally went over every aspect of the trip. He had not strayed from home without assistance in a very long time, but the drive would not take more than a few hours and they had all night.

Putting the car in gear, Ethan tapped the gas and the car lurched in fluid motion causing Brit to gasp in gleeful giggles. Her merriment caused Ethan to smile. His smile waivered upon hearing the GPS chirp out directions ‘Turn right’. “Yes, I know,” Ethan responded once and then simply shook his head. “Modern conveniences can be…” Brit looked to him expectantly. “Modern,” he grumbled softly turning as the GPS commanded him to do.

The full moon was high as they drove from the city. Ethan had considered taking a train, but what if it broke down? He relaxed more as the city lights formed a glow behind them. It had been several years since he drove on his own. Ethan had to admit that it felt good to be alone with Brit and not dependent on another. A disturbing thought of a car breakdown or other issue crossed his mind but he pushed it aside. It was simply a short trip, and he desired to give Brit a glimpse of what would be normal for any mortal couple.

As Ethan drove on, Brit played with the buttons on the car. She looked in the glove box and found chocolate. Chewing a piece, she smoothed her lipstick by using the make-up mirror above the visor. Ethan produced a CD of Trans-Siberian Orchestra to Brit who had been playing with the radio and was paused at a song by Flyboy. She inserted the CD and the sounds of “Wizards in Winter” seemed to surround the car. Snow started to fall.

Brit twisted in her seat exposing her thigh so that she could watch the snow swirl behind them. Ethan’s hand slid to the soft warmth of her thigh and lightly touched the bitemarks there. After several moments, he tapped her thigh and said, “Turn around, please. You can help watch where we are going.”

Brit turned to face forward lisping, “But I don’t know where we are going.” The sky continued to sprinkle snow as music played and they raced along in the car. Ethan’s hand stayed on her thigh and Brit watched out of the front window noticing that the road was winding while it carried them higher into the mountains. With the bright moon behind the scattered clouds that dropped snow, the world took on a blue-tinted glow.

Another hour passed and the clouds had thickened giving the air a darker feel. As the elevation climbed, the snow stopped falling. In its place was a slightly foggy glow. “Turn left in .5 kilometers,” said the GPS giving both of them a start. “Turn left in point five kilometers, Ethan,” lisped Brit.

Ethan stopped glowering at the GPS map and grinned. “Thank you, baby.” Turning at the correct point, the car followed a twisting gravel road that seemed to have been carved out of the mountain. The GPS was silent as if it had no more advice to give. “This looks familiar,” said Ethan. Ethan drove for another 10 minutes. Brit was quiet unsure where they were and feeling that the road was growing smaller and smaller.

Cresting a hilltop, Ethan made a hard right and pulled into a clearing. Other cars were peppered around tree stump guides hinting where one should park. As Ethan cut the engine, a figure emerged from a small cottage and walked toward them. In a language that Brit did not understand, Ethan greeted and the greeting was returned. The cloaked figure nodded to Brit and assisted Ethan to gather luggage from the car.

Brit took Ethan’s hand and followed the person who was helping them to navigate to their lodging. Brit noted that Ethan’s voice seemed relaxed and jovial to the other person’s comments. Turning down the path, Brit exclaimed, “Pretty!” Down the path, small cottages were each lined in Christmas lights.

Turning, the cloaked person said in an accented voice, “Many thanks. Though most visitors will be moving during the day up here. Skiing.” Brit nodded and Ethan motioned to go further. Turning down another line of cottages, the figure stopped at the one on the end. “You can still stay at the lodge, Ethan.”

“My wife and I wish to give seclusion a try,” replied Ethan. The cloaked figure gazed at Brit a moment and nodded before opening the door.

As lights were turned on, Brit broke into a bright smile. The cottage was like a tiny house. It had a small kitchen and bathing room. There was a living room area complete with plush, leather sofa and a cozy throw and fireplace. Ethan grimaced at the fireplace as the figure explained how to ignite it with a touch of a button. The cottage had a queen sized bed with luxurious covers, and every window had foil-lined shudders.

Ethan nodded with satisfaction. “It all looks to be in order, friend.” The two shook hands and the cloaked person left. Turning to Brit, he kissed pulled her to him and kissed her softly. “I’ll bet you are hungry,” he said. She nodded and he grinned impishly, “There should be sustenance in the refrigerator, baby.”

Opening the refrigerator, Brit paused looking over the eggs, milk, cheeses, and assorted vegetables with some meats. “It’s raw ingredients for food.”

Ethan chuckled giving her a small book titled, “You Can Cook!” Brit slowly opened it and read with her lips moving silently. Ethan offered encouragingly, “You said that we rarely did things alone. How hard can this be? I once cooked for myself in the field often.” Ethan picked up an egg and said, “I used to be quite fond of eggs.” Searching for a pan, he motioned her to the book and said, “See if you can find something to do with eggs.”

Thirty minutes later, they left the cottage to travel to the lodge. “Tomorrow, we will spend time with the cookbook,” Ethan assured her. “Tonight. Well, no one cooks the same day of travel.” Brit passed a pretty white wired tree and admired it while Ethan flipped through the book. Tapping it, he said, “Do not order scrambled eggs tonight, Brit. It may be something for you to make tomorrow.” Tucking the book in his pocket, he offered his arm and escorted her to the lodge to ensure that she ate before resting.