Properly cooked, hard-boiled eggs provide a surprising and joyous sensory experience; not just the sense of taste, but the senses of touch and accomplishment. Few experiences parallel the sheer joy of cracking and peeling a perfectly cooked hard-boiled egg. A sharp rap of the shell on a hard surface gives the fingers an easy spot for purchase, allowing large swaths of eggshell to be peeled back, exposing the firm but resilient white. With a few deft twists of the fingers, the whole egg in its pristine oval glory awaits.
Eggs cooked too long or too little, though, become sources of unmatched frustration as the shell shatters into a thousand shards during attempts to separate it from the underlying film. Tiny pieces of broken shell cling stubbornly to the rubbery white. When prying the shell from its substrate, ragged shreds of membrane refuse to release their grip on the underlying white. The harder one tries to separate the shell from its bounty, the more one tears at the egg, transforming an immaculate elliptical delicacy into a misshapen albino monster.
Treated well, eggs reward their guardians with immeasurable pleasure; abused, eggs punish their custodians with bitter frustration. And therein rests a lesson worth learning.
