Let’s be real: microwaving an egg. Don’t do it. I did it once. The sound was like a tiny bomb. The smell was like regret. The clean-up was a punishment. Just don’t. But if you must, poke a hole in the yolk and cover it. You have been warned.
And omelets. Everyone thinks they can make a French omelet. A silky, fold-over, no-brown-spot omelet. You can’t. You make a frittata instead—a thick, baked, slightly overdone egg cake. And that’s okay. A frittata is an omelet’s less-pretentious cousin.
So, which is the best? I can’t pick. That’s like asking which child you love most. But poached is the one that gets me every time. It’s simple magic. You get to decide. Grab a pan. Crack an egg. Go wild. Just don’t microwave it.
