Yesterday morning I set out to treat myself right with one of my favorite breakfasts - a soft-boiled egg in my favorite egg cup from Italy, strips of white toast with butter (well, I Can't Believe it's Not Butter, actually), and English Breakfast tea.
Well - as much as I'd like it to be, cooking is not really my forte, apparently not even when it comes to making a soft-boiled egg, in which the only skill required is boiling water. My egg came out hard-boiled. So much for dipping my toast strips into the slightly gooey egg. But had it not been hard-boiled, I never would have taken a spoonful and revealed this secret message: My breakfast asked me to be its Valentine.
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