I’m not Italian, so I think my pronunciation of your last name is kinda lame. Can I just call you Guy? Thanks! Where to start? Please allow me a little latitude as I get to the point. I had an experience Saturday night and I knew I had to address it with you. Guy, you are one of my favorite Food Network personalities. I watched your season of “The Next Food Network Star” and was a fan from the beginning. Nathan was ok, so I’m happy he got a Discovery network show, but you were clearly the star meant for the Food Network. We won’t discuss Reggie. Anyway, I enjoyed you on “Guy’s Big Bite”, and then when you started “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives”??? Man, I was hooked!!
But, amongst all that I loved about your personality and cooking style, one thing always bothered me. The eggs, Guy. What is it about eggs that bother you so? I think that the egg is a wonderful little food item!! Omelettes with spinach, mushrooms and cheese? The perfect hard-boiled egg? The little slice of heaven in the form of a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich? And, my personal favorite, the deviled egg? Oh, Guy! Why hath thou forsaken eggs???
Well Guy, here in lies my apology. ****deep sigh**** I now hate eggs. Yup. Hate ’em Loved ’em until Saturday night. Saturday night, I learned that eggs are evil and should be banished from the planet (along with cats of course). After a super long day, a lovely party and some car trouble, I arrived home with LittleTDJ (my almost 3 year-old son) at about 2:30am. After putting him to bed, I thought I still had tons of energy.
I was scheduled to bring my amazing, almost famous deviled eggs. Hey, other folks have called them amazing; I’m just quoting facts. I had planned to rise early Sunday morning and prepare the eggs well in advance of my 3pm party. However, during a discussion on Saturday night with 2 friends, they suggested I boil them Saturday night and prep them Sunday morning. Hmm, well, I guess that would ensure they’d be cold Sunday in time for the party. Great idea ladies!!
I gently placed 18 eggs into a large pot and went to my bedroom to post up with my iPad. After being otherwise involved, I had 21 active WWF games to play. Geez. Well, somewhere around game 9, things got fuzzy. I guess I was more tired than I realized. I don’t remember feeling sleepy or actually drifting to sleep, but the next thing that registered were bullets and explosions inside my house. I jumped up like a crazy woman, sending my iPad flying and not even caring. Since we live whisper close to the hood, I went into survival mode.
Knowing that MrTDJ could sleep through a full military invasion complete with grenades and cannons, I tried to make my way to LittleTDJ’s room. There was thick black smoke and I had to hug the wall to navigate my way. The explosions got louder as I exited my bedroom and then it clicked. Those got damn eggs!!! I stumbled into the kitchen and threw my hands up to protect my face from the flying shells. Grabbed two potholders and placed the scorched pot in the sink under a stream of water. As soon as the popping and sizzling stopped, I carried that mess out to the back porch.
So, that’s it. I’m done with eggs. I don’t want to see another, cook another or eat another one. Like EVER. After cleaning for almost 2 hours that night, I still spotted a piece of burnt egg shell last night. Guy, you were dead on in your disgust for all things egg. I sorry I doubted you. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, are you looking for a partner for any of your road trips???? We’d make a killer team. I got that spark, I promise you!