Yesterday I wrote with a bit of disdain about runny egg yolks. But even with runny yolks, it seems to me that fresh eggs would still be infinitely preferable to instant eggs, or as they are more commonly called powdered eggs. Powdered eggs are rather famously an example of horrible, nearly inedible foodstuffs, though it seems as though these days they are mostly sold to survivalists– the sorts of folks who believe that doomsday is right around the corner and stock their basements with supplies to insure their families will be able to eat when society breaks down. I did come across a blog post (which of course I quite failed to bookmark) by a family that tried powdered eggs. With varying amounts of Tabasco sauce they all managed to get their powdered eggs down, but none of them actually liked them. Honestly, if it came down to having to eat powdered eggs to survive, that might just be a sign to me that life was no longer worth living.
I suppose it may have been unfair to my friend Harold, who suggested today’s words, to have combined instant with eggs and come up with powdered eggs. Although it may well have been simply irresistable to do so. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that what the word petunia brings first to my mind is not the popular garden flower, but Harry Potter’s aunt. I suppose at this juncture I should wax eloquent about how Ms. Rowlings’ novels have become such a universal cultural touchstone, though I fear at the moment this would be quite, quite beyond me. Some days it seems the witty remarks simply flow forth, as though gushing from some deep spring. And other days I look at the chosen words and can think of so very little to say. On the other hand, powdered eggs and petunias was probably never going to be one of my best posts anyway.