Cooking Lessons

The Egg Slut

On a sea day some people have too much time on their hands. This could lead to something I call Entitlement Grouse and Grievance Syndrome, or EGGS. A noxious example of EGGS emerged this morning at breakfast.

I heard a voice loudly proclaiming that her eggs were overcooked. I looked around and saw it was a woman two tables away from us, sitting with her husband and another couple. I’m going to call her “the Egg Slut,” though this probably isn’t fair to sluts. (There is an international chain of restaurants called “eggslut”, and I am intrigued by the name.)

A waiter went over to her table and after some fussing and grumbling she accepted the waiter’s offer to bring her eggs that were more to her liking.

Fast forward a bit. I sensed a change in the mood of the room and looked up. The maître d’ was standing politely by her chair and listening impassively to a rant about eggs. It wasn’t difficult to overhear snippets of the conversation lecture. I heard things like this:

• You need to go and tell the chef this is how you make poached eggs . . .yada . . .yada . . .
• I know more about eggs than the chef . . . I used to raise chickens . . .yada . . .yada . . .
• This is how you make over-easy eggs. You flip them for exactly 6 seconds and then you take them off the stove.
• This is how you make fried eggs . . .
• I can go back there right now and teach the chef.

And so on, ad nauseam. The maître d’ listened and nodded until she finally stopped and then he walked away.

We were shocked and ashamed to see a passenger berating a crew member like that. It was egg-gregious. (Sorry, couldn’t help it.) The crew members, especially the restaurant staff, work so hard. Please be kind to them. If you have a problem and it has been corrected, just drop it. 

On the way out, the maître d’ was standing by the door. I told him he was very polite and professional. Another couple right behind us voiced their agreement. 

Namaste

Today there was a pop-up Indian restaurant at lunch time. It was  a fun idea. The waitstaff and hostess had Indian style-uniforms - each one a bit different and a bit understated.

Papadums with condiments

Tandoori broccoli

Front row: Chicken Chettinadu, Saffron rice, Dal

Fig, cardamon and rice kheer

If you know me, you will know that most of it was too spicy for me. This was not like Indian restaurants in the U.S. where they tone it down so that people like me can eat it. Oh, well.

How do you pronounce that?

These are things I have heard passengers say. Really.

“Osaka” for Oaxaca

“Hot taco” for Huatulco

“Paw-da Va-yada” for Puerto Vallarta (he was definitely from Boston)

“Laredo” for Loreto

“This place” or “I’m not even gonna try” for Topolobampo

100% of passengers pronounced Cabo correctly

Today’s fabric is Paprika Medallion by hazelrose for Spoonflower.