From the top of my head I can only remember two instances where mum showed me how to make something to eat.
The first time was when I was in primary school and she showed me how to make a meal out of instant noodles.
It was easy enough: empty the noodle packet contents into a bowl, then pour in boiling water. If I was feeling fancy, I’d add an egg too.
And that’s where my skill in “cooking” stopped. I wasn’t encouraged to take it any further, and I had no interest levelling up or exploring. Food has always been just food to me. Eat to survive—nothing more. Besides, I was too busy riding my bike around the neighbourhood.
It was around high school that she showed me how to fry eggs on a small old-school pan with little handles that we got from Vietnam. This was way before the convulted hipster cooking scene where patrons were served meals on the tools they were cooked on. I’m disappointed I still haven’t been served a toaster whenever I order breakfast yet.
She gave me the basics for a hearty morning meal:
• fry two eggs
• add some soy sauce
• sliced portion of cucumber, quartered
• a dab of mayo
• and two slices of buttered toast
Over the years I’ve experiment with different seasonings and toppings—I had kimchi once—but never strayed far from the original.
But these days, on top of the original recipe, my winning combo is:
• finger crushed parsley flakes for aroma
• Japanese red powder chilli
• two pickles
• unbuttered toast
Bonus: Vietnamese Ice Coffee
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In hindsight, it feels incorrect to label the dish as Johnny Eggs. But that’s how the name came to be, friends have seen countless photos of my basic dish that that’s how they refer to it.
It should be titled: Johnny’s Mum’s Eggs with a Twist 🙂