Daniel’s Eggs

by B.T.D.

Point, Counter-point, Auyon’s point, Dave’s point


Yesterday morning, Daniel made egg omelets for the Group. This was a kind gesture, but, unfortunately, Daniel’s egg omelets are about as good as his sweet potato fries, which were trash. I am not bitter, but last night Daniel attempted to claim culinary competence, and given what I have seen, I refuse to have that going on the record. The debate rages among members of BTD: were Daniel’s eggs satisfactory? Auyon says they aren‘t worthy of discourse, Dave often inhales food before tasting it, and I, I like to think I represent a balanced voice. Daniel, I dare you to rebut.


When criticizing my breakfast eggs, Aroop should keep in mind that he is risking offending a very important person.  At the beginning of the trip, Aroop realized he had forgotten to bring his own tube of toothpaste.  And so he decided to make mine communal property.  He should watch whose eggs he criticizes or he could end up with a lot of unwanted plaque and tartar.  Concerning the meal itself, even though Aroop may like to call himself an authority on food, his opinions about my sweet potato fries in Bruges (which were called “professional” and “excellent” by two unbiased observers) immediately cast doubt on his competence as a judge.  Really, we should think of a meal as a journey, a pilgrimage taking us from hunger to fullness.  The success of the meal is how smooth or bumpy that journey is.  The best meals allow us to sail smoothly, surrounded by pleasant scenery.  The worst ones are choppy and unpleasant.  The point is that even if my breakfast eggs weren’t exactly a ride in a luxury limousine, they were at least a comfortable trip in the backseat of a friendly New York cab.  They got the job done: they brought us each to fullness, and while perhaps they didn’t do it with the flair of Auyon’s mango-avocado salads, they certainly did it with as much effectiveness.  Diners were heard saying the eggs were, “fine” and “not the worst I’ve ever had,” and so Aroop is alone in his totally unfounded and flagrantly prejudiced opinions.


Daniel’s eggs were fine. The food I have been cooking, on the other hand, has been fantastic. My post as dinner chef has afforded me the ability to galavant around a farmer’s market outside of our apartment, which features such delights as Dutch cheeses, pickled everything and chocolate-shaped penises [sic?]. I decided to take advantage of the market’s proximity and try my hand at some Dutch food. Last night, we had hutspot, which is a traditional mash of onions, carrots and potatoes. Tonight was leftover night, which featured a mango-strawberry-grape fruit salad (garnished with leftover mint) and a mushroom-potato-leek soup with bits of bacon. Tomorrow may be our last home-cooked meal for a few nights, since we are probably hostelling in Berlin. I’ll have to make something special. Maybe I’ll stop by the chocolate stand.


I don’t remember Daniel’s eggs, to be honest. I’ve been racking my brains all day, and what I remember was thinking “mmmm, eggs” right before the meal, and then thinking “now it is time for some tea” right afterwards. To Daniel’s point, I have to admit that the transition felt pretty seamless. Although something about Daniel using the word “bumpy” is now making me think that there was possibly something a little bumpy about the eggs, and I think it was the bacon. Yes, maybe just a little bumpy — but that‘s really not a bad thing. I do remember the sweet potato fries being quite nice (I don‘t like them too crisp), and I remember that Aroop made some lovely eggs back in Paris, though I would have liked more bell peppers, if we’re really not holding anything back. Anyway, all this talk of food is making me pretty excited for supper, especially since Auyon’s cooking. Also I would like to say that breakfast and dinner are great, but in general I would love to see a little more attention paid to lunchtime.