Never cook a hard boiled egg in the microwave.
I attempted to this one day last week on my lunch hour and lemme tell you.. unless you want to spend the better part of your lunch cleaning up a huge assed mess then boil your hard BOILED egg like a normal person.
To my defense, it wasn’t supposed to be hard boiled. It was supposed to be “soft boiled.”
I’d been craving soft boiled eggs …errr… ok scratch that. After eating caldo de res (Mexican style beef stew) for the past four days for lunch and dinner (I mad a HUGE pot) and being utterly SICK OF IT I decided it was time to “change it up a bit.”
Of course I had no other leftovers to warm up and I didn’t really feel like cooking anything. And nothing sounded good except for a hard boiled egg. Well, I didn’t cook it long enough which is ok because the only thing better than a hard boiled egg is a soft boiled one.
Well, Annequin sees my lunch and smiles BIG and his little eyes widen with excitement and he says, “WHAT IS THAT MOM???”
Translation=will get up off the table where you are soooo obviously trying to relax and eat on your lunch hour and make me one please even though I already ate about a half hour ago.
Not being one to turn down cooking something for my kids that they will actually ENJOY and I won’t have to shove down their throats, I figure “what the hell!”
So I wolfed my lunch up and got up and started boiling his egg.
Not even a minute later he comes up and asks, “Is it done yet mommy?”
Because “mommy” is what they call me when they’re kissing booty.
Thinking it’s probably NOT done yet but it will be ok if it’s not because he like his eggs over easy anyways, I get up and crack open the egg.
Not only is it NOT ready but it’s really REALLY really not ready. Very runny snot looking. Gross.
So he smiles and says, “OH OH! I guess you have to make me another one, hu?”
Ugh. But ok. Let’s try again.
“Ok but don’t RUSH me this time ok?” I tell him.
A few minutes later I figure the egg is ready. I crack it up open.
STILL NOT READY.
This time I’m not gonna start over.
“I’ll just pop it into the microwave for 15 seconds and it will cook it just right.” I think to myself.
About ten seconds in we hear a very LOUD explosion coming from the microwave. When I say LOUD… I seriously mean LOUD as in busting through a wall loud or two cars crashing up against each other loud or you-just-broke-your-microwave-you-dumb-bitch loud.
Do NOT tell me I just broke my microwave? My beautiful BIG stainless steel microwave that matches my other stainless steel appliances and I love so much because did I mention it’s BIG?
Thankfully I opened the door and everything looks ok.
EXCEPT FOR THE SCRAMBLED MESS ALL OVER MY MICROWAVE.
The kids of course think it’s funny as hell.
I am not as amused.
Nana comes downstairs wondering what that noise was and the kids are more than happy to share with her how I don’t know how to cook a damned soft boiled egg and how I tried twice and failed and how I tried to cheat by nuking it but it exploded instead.
Feeling defeated, I cleaned up the mess as best as I could then left back to work feeling more tired than I was when I left home.