frozen egg

once in a while, when i don't know what to give coco for lunch, i'll remember about eggs. yes, there are always eggs in our refrigerator, which has, on its door, nineteen little inverted domes to place them in. every time i take an egg, i think about why the designer put nineteen spots instead of twelve or eighteen, since eggs are usually sold by the dozen or even half-dozen, if you buy the organic, free-range, omega-3 kind.
the reason we have eggs is because panzón and i don't really like them. i, who adore pigs feet, escargots and beef togue (in that order), have always found eggs a bit repulsive. during my childhood, i dreaded discovering a tinfoil-wrapped hard-boiled egg in my lunch, its smell penetrating my lunch box and the rest of its edible contents. fortunately, my best friend would quickly take the egg, carefully peel it and gobble it up, for which i am eternally grateful.
all of my life i was a self-declared egg-hater, until i went to mérida, where something changed me forever, a something called huevos motuleños. panzón's sister got married last year at the beautiful hacienda temozón (http://tr.im/xoVM), where presidents bush and calderón had met a few days earlier to discuss... whatever. on the first day, i gathered up my courage and, following my father-in-law's lead, i ordered this famous local dish, that is basically two fried eggs on a tostada with salsa, beans, queso fresco, ham, and peas. i felt the flavors bursting in my mouth: the oozing of the egg (in a good way), the the crunching of the tostada, the POP!ing of the peas. at that moment, i had a revelation.
today, when i took two eggs from the refrigerator to make a couple of scrambled egg sandwiches for lunch, i thought about all of these things. i was actually imagining the deliciously gooey huevos motuleños while cracking the second egg open and found myself waiting for it to slip out of its shell into the bowl. it wasn't until after it plopped out, that i realized it was frozen.