Okay, so today will officially make NINE days of posts in a row. Some have been good, some have been crap, but it’s been an interesting experiment. The urgency of a daily deadline has pushed me into clicking “Publish” on things – like my bullying post – that I otherwise would have thunk to death and never shared. (Word of the day: Thunk. Literal definition: A dull, hollow sound. Also a bastardized synonym for “thought.” Used colloquially to indicate a hard strike to the head.)
What I’ve learned from post-a-day: Sometimes it’s better not to think about it too much.
Which, when combined with the re-discovery of some old photos, gave me an idea for a today’s post. A tutorial, if you will, on the intricacies of a breakfast legend:
The Ziploc Omelet.
What? You’ve never heard of the Ziploc omelet? So, here’s the deal with Ziploc omelet: Today, if you Google “Ziploc Omelet,” you will be inundated with results that scream, OH MY GAAWWWD PTHATLATES BPA MELTED PLASTIC BEAR ATTACKS THE TERRORISTS WILL WIN DON’T DO IT NOOOOOOOOOOO!
Or something like that.
But back in 2006, when Ziploc omelet was first making the rounds, all the internet said was, ZIPLOC OMELET AMAZEBALLS YUM!
So I tried it. And luckily for 2012 me, 2006 me was living the delusional, photojournalist dream with a clunky, early model, “What serial number?” digital camera that I’d recently purchased off of eBay. Which means that along with loads of photos of three-year-old Isabel (awwwww), my old albums are flush with food prep pictures. “Here we are at the zoo, and this is when we met the Easter Bunny, and over here is when we ate boiled green beans.” No, I do not understand why I did this. 2006 me was a chasm of mystery. It’s yet another one of those things that it’s best not to think about too much.
Before we begin, let’s cover the basics of Ziploc omelet. You can still find these instructions on the internet, if you’re so inclined, but they’re pretty simple – which, as you’ll see, is the primary selling point of Ziploc omelet.
Basic Ziploc Omelet Recipe
Ingredients: Eggs, Cheese, Ham
Instructions: Break eggs into a Ziploc bag. Add cheese and ham. Close bag. Smoosh everything together. Put bag into pan of boiling water. Leave for 13 minutes. Eat.
Now let’s find out just how many ways we can overcomplicate this recipe, shall we?
ZIPLOC OMELET! A City Line Breakfast Tutorial for People Who Think Too Much
Welcome! In this tutorial, we will review all the steps to cooking the easiest of breakfast fare, the Ziploc omelet, in TWELVE simple steps!
Gather your supplies. You will need the following:
- Large glass mixing bowl
- Pizza cutter
- Cereal bowl
- Large spoon
- Small spoon
- Winnie the Pooh oven mitts (these are a must)
Ingredients. I didn’t have ham, apparently. Or regular cheese. But I did have a super gallon of bleach-based cleanser, because at this time we were moving and everything we owned was in the wrong place. Don’t call CPS on me, the bleach wasn’t included in the Ziploc omelet. I don’t think.
- ZIPLOC BAG
Fill pot with water and bring to a boil. While water is heating, crack eggs into Ziploc bag and add cheese. Take random, not-quite focused photo of smooshy egg. Six years later, wonder why only used one egg.
Consider dropping omelet bag into pan of boiling water but realize – absurdly, for the first time – that plastic bag will touch hot metal pot.
Consider the following scenarios resulting from melted plastic eggs:
- “MY SKIN IS BURNING!”
- Ruined pot
- Wasted eggs
- Oh, and, CANCER.
Success! Create a double boiler by putting large mixing bowl on top of boiling water pot!
FAIL. Discover plastic bag is floating. Use spoons and fork to try to hold down Jesus-inspired salmonella bag. Wonder why 2006 self didn’t simple re-seal bag with less air inside.
Can’t let puffy bastard bag win. Invoke the wrath of the pizza cutter.
Drown that asshole bag. Cereal bowl. KAPOW. Take that, motherfucker. Remain unclear on motivations of 2006 self.
Congratulations! You did it! You cooked an egg and took another out of focus picture. Student loans = justified.
Bask in the warm glow of your success. By which I mean, stare in revulsion at the monstrosity you just created.
Serve! Something that is NOT Ziploc omelet. Because that shit is gross.