Zhuangzi’s Dream of Butterfly

(or How I made the perfect eggs).


This is the perfect allegory for my discovery of the perfect eggs, eggs that don’t know if they are dreaming of being heavy cream or maybe they are heavy cream dreaming that they are eggs. Their confusion is the perfect foundation for the best eggs ever made, functionally a new food group.

I was experimenting in the kitchen over the holidays when I tend to have a lot of heavy cream on hand. Who doesn’t need a gallon or two of heavy cream on standby? Whip up some to die for Mexican Spicy Chocolate Ice Cream (for mine I use about 2 tbl of cayenne and a few slices of pickled habenero, that’s how I roll), fresh Whip Cream with some candied Basil (try it!) for pecan pie.

The options are endless and completely, completely necessary.

I had read a blog about mixing heavy cream with eggs, some magic about butterfat and emulsion, wait, stop. You had me at Butterfat. The recipe called for a tablespoon of cream to your eggs but I’m the kinda guy that cooks peanut butter sandwiches in bacon fat, a tablespoon is not going to cut it. I cracked two eggs in the pan and poured in a cup and a half of heavy cream, put it on low, told Alexa to play some Barry White. I turned the lights down low and lit some candles — I needed to let some magic happen, there may be a little creative hyperbole mixed in here but hell I’m trying to set a mood.


After about 5 minutes some magic began to happen, the cream, heated up started to mix into a slurry with the whitening err whites.. the yolk was getting soft but not firm or even worse chalky and inedible like so many failed eggsperiments. The yolk was some sort of perfection almost hard to describe like silkiness of Creme Brulee, the luxuriousness of your first oyster, the tantalizing delicacy of Turkish Delight. Go Ahead, Edmund it’s safe.

Turkish Delight dusted with confectioner’s sugar in silver tin resting on a bed of snow.
Turkish Delight dusted with confectioner’s sugar in silver tin resting on a bed of snow.
from Insearchofyummyness

The cream was infused with same silkiness with a hint of egginess. A sprinkle of some Crazy Jane’s Mixed-up Salt made the tastes wrap my tongue in a warm blanket of culinary wonder. This was something else, altogether — this was something else.

It’s an entirely different kind of egg, altogether.

When Vasco Nunes de Balboa cut back the final strangling fig vine from the jungle and saw the Pacific ocean for the first time, realizing he’d discovered a new passageway to the riches of Spice, so I was with these eggs; endless possibilities abounded, brand new neuron pathways crackled into existence like a runaway live wire into my conscious and subconscious mind. Whole new worlds sprang into existence, this was my Big Bang of Foodie discovery.

But there was some danger here too. Like Permanent Midnight kind of danger, there is no going back to regular eggs after this. I ate heavy cream and eggs every time I ate eggs, I couldn’t stop thinking about it from the single month Decembanuary I only ate these eggs. I added some European Butter to the mix (bad idea — too much fat {is that possible?}), I added some Srihacha and garlic (it took away of from the mellow creaminess), and then I found the secret ingredient that would elevate the eggs to the next level Cambazola, the unholy marriage of Camembert and a Triple Cream, Serendipity, you sweet succulent mistress.

By Jorchr — Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,

I made it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I talked about it at parties, endlessly denoting the nuanced virtues. I made it for friends, neighbors, pulled people off the street and shoved a spoon in their mouth and said “Taste it!” I was a Creamy Egg Cambazola drug pusher. I started eyeing around corners shiftily seeing if the MAN was coming for me and my eggs. I started wearing trenchcoats with secret pockets of flash frozen ramekins that I could instanuke at work for creamy lunchtime decadence. I orchestrated my Keto diet around getting all my fats and protein at once in some sort power slurry of egg cream. This was getting out of hand.

Thank god for my medical operation two weeks ago. It broke the cycle of eggscream addiction, I had to fast to break the spell. But it’s still out there enticing me with it creamy, salty, eggy taste.

It doesn’t have a point of view, knows not where it’s going to, isn’t it a bit like me and you..

Doesn’t know whether it’s cream or egg — it’s the best of both worlds. Please try it out for yourself! Let me know how it goes down below.

Avid Foodie, boozehound, and life wonderer. Sometimes writer.

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