If the eggs say it, then it must be true

Plus celebrating 3 YEARS of Obsessed!

When I’m too tired or uninspired to cook for my family, I turn to two low-effort options: oven-baked nachos or toasted egg sandwiches with ketchup. The former is a dish where I dump salsa and beans on tortilla chips and cover with grated cheddar.

“But Mom,” my kid cries. “Where are the vegetables?”

The vegetables are in the salsa, I think.

The toasted egg sandwich is an important recipe passed down from one generation of Bélands to another. My father made me that sandwich as a child, and it’s my duty to carry on the family tradition and serve the culinary masterpiece to my child.

Here’s the recipe.

Béland Family Toasted Egg Sandwich with Ketchup

1. Crack an egg on a too hot frying pan

2. Ensure you poke the yolk with your spatula so it bursts during cooking

3. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, turn after a minute

4. Toast two slices of brown bread

5. Butter the bread

6. Slap the fried egg on a toasted bread slice

7. Squirt ketchup on the egg in desired design (I prefer spirals but you could do a smiley face)

8. Cover with other slice of bread, slice the sandwich down the middle and SERVE

You know when people reminisce about their mother’s cooking? Like “My mother made the best spaghetti sauce,” or “There was nothing like my mother’s roast beef. I wish I could taste her roast one last time.”

I don’t think my kid will ever long for my cooking.

I’m not kidding. There are many uncertainties in life, and this isn’t one of them. Let me prove it to you. I’m writing these words in bed and my 9yo is next to me reading a Garfield book.

“Hey,” I literally asked him two seconds ago, “when you think of the meals I cook, is there anything you crave?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is there anything that Mommy makes that you really love and would like me to prepare soon?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“No…” he said. “Apart from Granny’s spaghetti, there’s nothing else that I want.”

“Perfect,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“No, no. It’s all good. That’s exactly the information I needed.”

See? He wants MY MOTHER’S spaghetti.

Do you know what’s funny? I don’t feel bad, embarrassed, ashamed, or envious. I respect his opinion. I wouldn’t crave my cooking either, apart from “The Michelle Special,” which I will tell you about another day. I’m the main cook in my household, and my family is lucky that I show up *almost* every day to the stove with the intention of nourishing their bodies. What did your mother make when you were young? someone will ask my kid in thirty years. My mother fed me is what he will say.

The whole point of this anecdote isn’t to divulge my lack of chef skills, but to tell you what happened when I cracked an egg for my toasted egg sandwich.

It had two yolks. Two bright yellow eyes at the bottom of a stainless steel pan, staring back at me.

This has never happened before. I’ve been cracking eggs for two decades and I’ve never come across two yolks. And since it’s rare, I thought it might have a special meaning. According to Google, finding an egg with two yolks is a sign of good luck, prosperity, abundance, new beginnings or pregnancy of twins.

Twins are out of the question, but I’m thrilled at the thought of new beginnings and good fortune.

The Universe works in mysterious ways. Sometimes it sends you little signs of encouragement and guidance in a frying pan. And sometimes hens ovulate rapidly and release two yolks in the same egg. So what was it? Hormonal fluke or cosmic prediction? It doesn’t matter.

I ate a toasted egg sandwich and I enjoyed it.

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Obsessions of the week

• I’ve recently discovered ear plugs. Not the fancy ones that cost fifty bucks, but the foam ones from the pharmacy. I’ve been wearing them to bed and my life has changed.

• Listening to “Don’t Get Your Back Up” by Sarah Harmer on repeat.

• Love this quote I came across on Instagram:

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Obsessed turns 3!

Illustration by Montreal artist La Pimbêche

Time absolutely flies when you’re having a great time! I can’t believe I’ve been writing this newsletter for three years already. That’s 95 essays (!!!). I love this space. I love this medium. And I love that I get to share my writing with you, dear reader, who’s been keeping up with my obsessions and adventures for three whole years. Thank you for reading my work. What a dream come true it is to know that somebody, somewhere, sees my name in their inbox and thinks “Let’s see what Michelle is writing about this week.”

Merci beaucoup.