超级慢的scrambies

你可以叫他们炒鸡蛋,虽然word doesn’t really do them justice. They’re scrambled, yes, in technical terms, but moreso coaxed—led gently through the cooking process with saintlike patience. I prefer to call them Slow Scrambies, and they’re a staple dish in the a.m. ritual I’ve dubbed #baroquebreakfast. Slow Scrambies are a morning indulgence nonpareil, not only because they are suffused with lots of good French butter, but also because making and eating them is a shamelessly decadent use of an hour. Everything about Slow Scrambies is an exercise in intention, starting with the eggs I get at the Greenmarket in my neighborhood each week—always a half dozen so nothing sits in my fridge too long. Whisking in a few spoonfuls of cream before cooking (or a scoop of ricotta afterwards) dials up the decadence, but they’ll get plenty creamy without it. Note that the less you stir while they’re in the pan, the larger the curd; I like to whisk them consistently so the end result has the texture of soft polenta.When everything’s ready, I drag my favorite sunny yellow chair over to the window where a few prisms catch the morning light, throwing trippy little rainbows around my kitchen.From there I sip coffee while keeping an eye on the Scrambies, checking in to break up the curds and make sure that my how-low-can-you-go flame hasn’t given up the ghost. Whether I’m making Scrambies, or my other other-top favorites燕麦片and吐司，#baroquebreakfast及其所有lane陷的陷阱是我最罕见的商品（时代）给自己的礼物。