<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two fried eggs, or even three. Served with a little tomato salad dressed with olive oil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It\u2019s a pleasure that costs almost nothing, but on the road, it becomes a capital-P Pleasure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And yet, back home, we don\u2019t even think about it. At a restaurant or in a hotel, all you have to do is order two fried eggs and that\u2019s that. But in Africa, it\u2019s another story. Here, the egg has to be cooked, and even very well cooked. The white, the yolk, everything has to be firm. Above all, nothing must run.
Renting a small apartment with a kitchen gives the traveller a chance to rediscover this little pleasure. A tiny pleasure, as Philippe Delerm might put it.
But on the road, everything is capitalized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The fears, the joys, the sadness, the solitude, the freedom, the wonder, the excitement. Yes, everything is capitalized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The same goes for fried eggs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To begin with, you have to find the eggs. And the tomatoes. For that, all you have to do is go to the little market just nearby, with its wooden stalls and wonky benches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After a few days, the woman at the stall recognizes you. She even calls you by your first name and asks how you\u2019re doing.
You ask her for what you need to prepare yourself a king\u2019s feast: four tomatoes and six eggs. Yes, six! Enough for two meals.
She carefully chooses the tomatoes. She wants to make sure you\u2019re pleased.
And off you go, with everything you need for the banquet tucked into your little canvas bag.
Once you\u2019re back, all that\u2019s left is to officiate.
Heat the frying pan first. That\u2019s important! Then add a drizzle of oil.
The eggs require a few precautions. You have to place them in a glass of water. Those that sink are fresh. Those that float are thrown away. But that\u2019s very rare.
The tomatoes go under the water. Wash them carefully, then cut them into quarters and arrange them on a plate. A little olive oil, a few drops of vinegar, salt, pepper. That\u2019s it. Nothing more is needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The pan is already hot. You crack the eggs. The white begins to set, the edges start to sizzle. The yolk, meanwhile, must remain intact, shiny and trembling beneath its fine membrane.
I forgot to mention the bread. Because a fried egg is inconceivable without fresh bread.
Bread, on the road, isn\u2019t always easy to find. And yet there are places where it is surprisingly good. In Guinea, for example. Simple, crusty bread that needs nothing more than a still-runny egg yolk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The eggs are cooked, already.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All that\u2019s left is to slide them onto the plate. Beside the tomatoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And then, with a little piece of bread, break through the fine membrane holding the yolk together. In biology, it\u2019s called the vitelline membrane, but at that moment, you\u2019re not really thinking about biology.
You simply dip your bread into the yolk.
Then into the tomato juices, where the olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper have all mingled together.
And suddenly, you\u2019re no longer travelling.
You\u2019re simply sitting in a little kitchen, with a plate of fried eggs and tomatoes in front of you.
And perhaps that is the greatest of all capital-P Pleasures: finding, at the other end of the world, the very simple taste of something you once thought was ordinary.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Two fried eggs, or even three. Served with a little tomato salad dressed with olive oil. It\u2019s a pleasure that costs almost nothing, but on the road, it becomes a capital-P Pleasure. And yet, back home, we don\u2019t even think about it. At a restaurant or in a hotel, all you have to do is order two fried eggs and that\u2019s that. But in Africa, it\u2019s another story. Here, the egg has to be cooked, and even very well cooked. The white, the yolk, everything has to be firm. Above all, nothing must run.Renting a small apartment with a kitchen gives the traveller a chance to rediscover this little pleasure. A tiny pleasure, as Philippe Delerm might put it.But on the road, everything is capitalized. The fears, the joys, the sadness, the solitude, the freedom, the wonder, the excitement. Yes, everything is capitalized. The same goes for fried eggs. To begin with, you have to find the eggs. And the tomatoes. For that, all you have to do is go to the little market just nearby, with its wooden stalls and wonky benches. After a few days, the woman at the stall recognizes you. She even calls you by your […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":14126,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[186],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14129","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-wandering-thoughts-en"],"yoast_head":"\n