Much of what we love is what was handed to us by our parents. What they told us, chose for us, hid from us, and what they fed us.
For some things though, it is possible to break away from what was handed / chosen for us. Siew spoke about discovering her favourite style of eggs on a trip to Japan (special nod to our favourite writer, Haruki Murakami). My “discovery” was in a more mundane setting.
I’d have been around 20 years old then. My sister and I were at home, and we were hungry. For some reason, I was making eggs. And for some reason, I thought it necessary to deviate from what has been cooked for us all these years – I thought it a good idea to add ketchup to the egg I had just fried. I called it ketchup egg and brought it to my sister. She asked why it looked like that, ate it and then declared it was “okay”. My sister was a very picky eater.
So there you go. Ketchup egg. Nothing too stunning, the “effort” or “change”, so to speak, a mere addition of a sauce. But it was mine, and hence a special memory.
Surprisingly, despite it being my favourite style of egg, I don’t eat it that often. I was cooking eggs one day, and remembered ketchup egg. I made it, fed it to Siew, and then declared we had to do posts on our favourite kind of egg.
Here you go.
As for a photo, I can only say that eggs in ketchup don’t make for a very appealing photograph. Instead, the image above is the dining room in a hotel in Tottori. I chose it because I was there with my mother and sister, and my heart was appropriately appropriated by someone special. So it represents all that I have conveyed in this entry. Cheers.