Pancake Puddin'

Pancake Puddin'
By: Linda DePeel (c.)2008

I have never been overly fond of eggs. My mother told me that she fed me so much egg yolk when I was a baby, that I must have "foundered" on it (my mother's terminology for being turned off to certain foods). So, most of my life, I've avoided eating eggs. And of course, there's my son, Mark with his "scrambled microwave eggs"--shudder!

My husband and I went to a nice restaurant in Omaha, and he insisted on ordering for me. So he ordered Eggs Benedict. I was too shy to speak up, so I didn't protest. I mean, one does not go to a fancy restaurant and say, "Eeeww! I don't like that!" But I resented it, lemme tell ya!

The waitress, a pretty, petite dark haired girl, with huge doe eyes brought our meal. My husband had steak and eggs and Mike had a kids meal of burger and fries. She set my plate in front of me, and I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. My husband paid no attention, and attacked his steak like a ravenous dog. But apparently the woman noticed my apprehension. In a kind soft voice, she asked, "Is everything all right, ma'am?"

"I'm sorry," I said, staring down at my plate, "I can't eat these eggs." To me they looked like two huge yellow eyes staring at me. And I, being the bright and mature woman that I was, found myself glaring back at those eggs, actually wanting to give them a black eye!

The perky waitress said in her same soft voice, "I understand. Would you like something else?" My husband's steak knife clattered to the table, and maybe I was imagining it, being embarrassed and all, but it sounded loud, and I dropped my head, because I knew people were staring--even though there weren't many people near our table.

"For crying out loud!" my husband snapped. "What is it with you and eggs?" I had no voice, but I wanted to say, "Next time, let me order my own meal, Dear. And stop making a scene!"

I guess the waitress sensed the tension and said, "How about if I take this back and bring you scrambled eggs?" I told her I thought maybe I could handle that, and after she removed my plate, my husband said, "We're going to be laughed out of this place, because of you and your egg phobia."

My baby son was better behaved than my husband, who went back to chowing down. Soon the waitress brought a new plate, and I thanked her. Then, hesitantly, I tried the "Scrambled Eggs Benedict". It was actually pretty tasty, even though my husband glared at me the whole time.

Our "tiff" was soon forgotten, and we went to the restaurant many times after that. And I did eat Eggs Benedict several times, but always scrambled!

Today, I guess I'm older and my tastes have changed a bit, so I do eat more eggs. In fact, I get to craving hard-boiled eggs now and again. I prefer omelets or scrambled eggs on top of pancakes. My grandma used to fix pancakes and plop scrambled eggs on top, with butter and syrup for me. She called it "Pancake Puddin'", and accomplished what my mother couldn't. Just don't fix me fried or poached eggs unless, of course, you want to see a real Stare Down!