Here is a study in coincidences. Last week, I had wonderful scrambled eggs at a bakery in Drummoyne. I could not remember the name of it. This morning, I went and had my knee x-rayed. Whilst sitting in the waiting room, I picked up a 1994 copy of Vogue Entertaining, flipped it open and there was a story on the same bakery. It is called the Bowan Island Bakery, after an island off Vancouver.
By the way, the people in the waiting room were a 50/50 mix between men and women, but the magazines were 100% female interest. Why is that so?
On Friday, I had scrambled eggs again, but this time at a place called Macchiato in town. The plate arrived. There were two bits of toast. They were obvious. There was a small pile of mushrooms (which I had ordered as an extra). They stood out due to their colour against the white plate. I searched for about 30 seconds before finding the eggs, which were a small dollop in the middle of the plate.
There are several possibilities.
It was a scrambled egg. Note the lack of an 's' after egg.
They had switched to quail's eggs.
They thought it was time I went on a diet.
The cook needs someone to job his elbow when he is tipping the egg mixture into the pan.
Whatever it is, I was unimpressed. They were nice, but completely measly. If it wasn't for the mushrooms, I would have been ordering seconds. Eating two breakfasts is not a good look.
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