Chapter 3130: "Romantic" Wedding Season (14)_2

Stark began to crack eggs into the pot, but it was clear from the way he trembled while holding the egg that he had never really cracked an egg like this before; he must have been trying to imitate Shiller cooking.

Anyone who's cooked before knows that cracking eggs requires a certain feel; some people prefer to use the edge of the pot, others the edge of the stove, while others must use a bowl or they risk crushing the egg.

Shiller preferred to crack eggs on the edge of the kitchen counter: on one hand, this meant that if he encountered a bad egg, he could simply throw it away without the egg liquid flowing directly into the pot; on the other hand, this spot was lower than the edge of the pot, making it more comfortable for him to use.

Stark wanted to crack the eggs in the same place. He held the egg upright in his hand and tapped it on the edge, but he hit it too hard, and with a "pop," the egg exploded in his hand.

"Ah!" Stark let out a cry of despair.

The eggshell fell to the floor, and the egg liquid stuck to his hand. This was truly a nightmare for someone with a penchant for cleanliness.

But how has Stark recovered from his issues quite a bit, hasn't he? After grimacing for a good fifteen seconds, he still moved to the faucet to rinse his hands clean and then used kitchen towels to wipe up the eggshell on the floor and the spilled egg white before finally cleaning the countertop's edge.

What was truly saddening was that the egg white had dripped onto the cabinet door, seeping inside; when Stark opened it, the inside of the door was smeared with egg white, making him feel as if the sky were falling.

He wiped it hastily with a paper towel, feeling the pressure of time, then hurriedly picked up another egg.

This time, he learned from his mistake and tapped the egg gently; indeed, the shell cracked, but the opening was too small. Stark took the egg to the pot and tried to break it open forcefully, but ended up crushing the area he was holding, and the shell fell into the pot like a meteor shower.

"Oh, shit!" Stark quickly grabbed a spatula from nearby to try to remove it, but you can't easily pick out these things with a spatula, so he went over to the chopstick holder and grabbed a pair of chopsticks.

But, in reality, Stark wasn't very good with chopsticks, and he ended up clumsily attempting to pick out the fragments with one stick in each hand.

However, the pot had been heating for quite some time and the oil was very hot; before he could remove the fragments, the egg had already cooked.

Stark stood in front of the pot in sadness.

He had no choice but to use the same spatula to take the entire egg out and throw it away, turn off the heat, pour out the oil with the fragments, and start over from scratch.

This time, things went a bit more smoothly. He added just the right amount of oil, managed to crack an egg and drop it into the pot, frying two seemingly perfect eggs. He plated them and presented them to Shiller, saying, "Do you want to try Stark's perfect fried eggs first?"

Without even lifting his eyelids, Shiller picked up the pair of chopsticks next to him and flipped one egg over.

On one side, the fried eggs looked perfect; on the other, they were completely burnt, their color competing with a black hole.

"How did this happen?" Stark asked, somewhat shocked. "I saw you fry eggs the same way, why don't they get burnt?"

"There are two kinds of fried eggs," Shiller said. "One that needs to be flipped and one that doesn't. If you want it to heat evenly, flip it halfway through..."

"But then it won't look good," Stark said. "They're not being hidden inside a sandwich, invisible; I want to fry the kind you make that show the white and yolk clearly."

"Then you need to adjust the heat, and also cover the pot; you can't just fry on high heat uncovered until the bottom burns, otherwise, by the time the top is cooked, the bottom will definitely be burnt."

Stark had an epiphany.

He started over again, this time turning down the heat when the egg white on top had almost set, then covered the pot. By mixing frying and simmering, the top of the egg set just right while the bottom turned golden brown.

Busy for half an hour, Tony finally managed to fry some eggs, but by then, he was ready to give up on his grand breakfast plan. He thought sandwiching a fried egg between slices of bread wouldn't be too bad.

He opened another plastic bag and took out the bread, only to realize that he hadn't bought sliced bread, which meant that he would have to slice it himself.

By this time, Peter had finished his call and come back. Seeing Tony about to cut the bread with a fruit knife, he rushed into the kitchen and snatched the knife away.

"Tony, what are you doing?"

"I'm cutting bread. What's the problem?"

"You need to use a bread knife to cut bread. That thing won't cut it, and with the way you're holding the bread, you'd only end up cutting your fingers off."

Tony blinked, seemingly unable to imagine such a scenario. Peter pulled a bread knife from the knife rack. The bread knife had no point, was not sharp, and had serrations. With just a light back-and-forth motion, it could easily slice through soft items.

After cutting the bread, Peter glanced at the several tragically wasted eggs in the trash bin and then at the footprints on the floor left by the still-wet egg liquid, and sighed with a pained heart.

"Mr. Stark, I feel that if you keep going like this, the chances of finishing before the ladies wake up are slim. How about I help you?"

Tony touched his nose, knowing full well that cooking was not his forte, and he was actually waiting for Peter to offer him a way out.

"Alright. I also want to fry some beans and sausages, and it would be even better if we had some mashed potatoes."

"Then you go open the can of beans... never mind, I'll do it. You put the pan on the stove, pour a little less olive oil in, and get the tomato paste from the fridge."

Peter picked up the can opener and started rummaging through the plastic bag for a can of beans. Fried beans made from canned beans are common in an English breakfast, but in America, people tend to favor heavier flavors, usually adding some tomato paste and sugar to create a sweet and sour taste.

Stark searched the fridge, but he had no idea what tomato paste was and thought it was just regular ketchup. Seeing a red sauce and a tomato painted on the bottle, he grabbed it.

Peter poured without looking, then noticed how runny it was. Looking down, he sighed.

"Mr. Stark, this is ketchup, not tomato paste."

"What's the difference?"

"Tomato paste has a richer flavor. Ketchup has more sugar, so it can become bitter if the heat isn't controlled properly."

Tony sucked in a breath. Peter comforted him, "It's fine, I can control the heat. Using ketchup isn't the end of the world as long as we don't add extra sugar."

After that, he added the beans to the pan and stir-fried them until the water reduced a bit and the sauce began to thicken, then used the spatula to transfer them to a plate beside.

Next, they fried sausages, which really wasn't difficult; so Peter let Tony do it. He simply poured oil into the pan, placed the sausages in, and fried until they were golden brown on both sides.

Tony didn't make any superfluous moves, but he had bought vacuum-packed sausages that had some liquid on them when taken out. He didn't wipe it off and just put them directly into the oil.

Pop! Sizzle!

"Ow!!!"