She likes a seven-minute egg for lunch, on a pile of leftover roasted vegetables and quinoa, or on top of a salad. Katie, who often takes hers to go, tells me that you can microwave the cooked, shelled egg for twenty seconds to rewarm it. He uses canned beans-white, black, pinto, Ranch-style-and sometimes he adds feta or aged cheddar, sometimes salsa, usually hot sauce, and of course, always salt and pepper.
Andre had never been much of a morning eater, but the egg-and-bean bowl felt different: it was easy, for one thing, and quick, and surprisingly delicious, and it carried him through handily to lunch. The seven-minute egg was first made for me by my cousin Katie and her husband Andre, and it was first made for them by their friend and occasional houseguest Will, who is, as Katie put it, “the kind of person who feels very comfortable in other people’s kitchens.” One morning, Will rooted around in their fridge, pulled out a few eggs, warmed up some beans, and seven minutes later, presented them with breakfast. I’ve come to believe that, if what you want is a set white and a soft yolk, simple is best: the seven-minute egg. I have eaten meticulous eggs à la David Chang, cooked in 145-degree water for 45 minutes, and I’ve eaten haphazard eggs à la my grandmother. Voilà: your own small-scale boxing match, no Pay-Per-View needed! The egg bobs and weaves, slips and slides, darting around the bowl, elusive as Ali, until-he’s down! he’s doooThere are many schools of thought on egg boiling, one of which holds that the words “egg” and “boil” should never share a sentence. It has, however, afforded me the opportunity to pick up a valuable trick, and in case you’re ever housebound in the early hours with a toddler (or someone with the motor skills of a toddler-maybe yourself, for instance, pre-caffeination), I will share it: Boil an egg for seven minutes, peel it, put it in a bowl, hand the kid a spoon, and ask her to pierce the yolk. It’s not the greatest gig, as my fellow Morning Parents can attest, particularly here in Seattle, where the winter mornings are long and dark. I live with a chef who works late and a two-year-old who wakes early, and this makes me, by default, the Morning Parent.
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