I hate eggs. Scrambled, sunny side up, overeasy, hard boiled, soft boild. Hate them all. The pesky problem is I wish I liked them. I fantasize about eating yummy filled omelettes. I’m certain that a bacon egg and cheese sandwhich is the cure all for righteous hangovers. A devout pie lover, my mouth waters at the idea of quiche. But it all goes back to my strict adhereance to the slighty wet texture that the item in question creates on my tongue.

I’ve spoken to countless individuals about this problem. “Put cheese on them,” “eat them with ketchup” and the all too modest “well you just haven’t tried my eggs,” are a sampling of responses I’ve recieved over the years. As with many things, it is easier said than done but I desperately want to mend my rocky relationship with the incredible edible egg. And so I woke this morning on a mission. To make an egg and eat it. And with Julia’s handy tips (Child that is), a medley of fillings and a positive mentality I embarked on this latest kitchen crusade.

So I decided that if I were to do this, I was going to make it the supremely appetizing. And if I were to fill the omelette with the last remains of my proscuitto than I would almost be locked in to eating it as not to let my last morsels go astray. So in one egg (baby steps) I put scallions, cream cheese, parsley, prosciutto and a shaving of parmesan cheese. Minus some stickige issues, out came a tempting looking treat that I was surprisingly anxious to try.

I must say, it was quite delicious. The cream cheese gets melty and nicely compliments the buttery prosciutto. While the scallions add a nice mild flavor and the parmesan gives a salty bite. Hands down I would eat it again.

With such a tumultous past, eggs and I have alot to work on. We decided we’re going to take it slow, but the egg may very well take up shop in my repertoire of culinary treats in the future.