It's past eight o'clock.

I slid open the glass door into the kitchen and stood still for a while until I reached out and opened the upper cabinet. Tiptoe to read the letters on the label of instant cup noodles.

Minced pork, creamy shrimp tom yum, seafood, mala, stewed duck

Stewed duck

I thought in my heart and sighed softly.

After tearing open the cap and taking out the plastic fork that came with it. I turned around and picked up the silver kettle on the counter behind me, opened it and put it down and pressed the button to boil water at the bottom of the kettle that should have just enough left.

As soon as I tore off the cap, the familiar smell of synthetic braised duck wafted to my nose.

I'm bored. Why aren't there any delicious new flavors coming out?

The sound of water boiling in the kettle was followed by the sound of the kettle's buttons bouncing up with a "tack" sound.

I poured water into the cup up to the inside limit in one go, with no hesitation about whether it was too much or not.

very good

I thought with a smile in my heart.

While I was standing with my hands and feet on the counter staring at the bowl of noodles in silence to complete the three minutes, my cell phone popped up with a message notifying me of a new YouTube clip from the tourist girl's channel that I had pressed notifications for.

“3 simple Japanese style breakfast menus”

I clicked to look immediately out of habit.

“Good morning everyone. Today we're going to make a simple breakfast menu that I always made while renting a house on a recent trip to Japan. Let's start with the spinach with sesame and miso sauce.”

It's easy.

I closed the clip with a furrowed brow and a deep sigh after seeing a bag of raw white sesame seeds and a Japanese-style grinding bowl waiting in the background.

If we could make some simple meals, it would be good.

I thought about it and turned to look at the two-burner induction cooker that I use for nothing else than boiling packets of instant noodles when I want to add some sausage or frozen diced carrots.

While sitting, eat the braised duck flavored noodles in a bowl with the included fork. I clicked on the video teaching how to make spinach with sesame and miso sauce to watch again. Images of the fire from the gas stove flashing up into the children's faces surfaced. With the sound of Grandma chopping red chilies coming from behind.

“Is something wrong?! Why not use the stove and call Grandma? Is this a cleft eyebrow?"

Let's look again at the clip of 3 simple Japanese style breakfast menus. It ended without realizing it.

I want to eat omelets like my mother makes too.

"You're going to make my own omelet recipe."

This time it was a picture of Mom talking and standing behind her laughing.

How difficult will it be?

I thought as I typed into the YouTube search box, “

ultimate omelet”

An image of an omelet with the name of the clip that was crafted to invite people to click to increase views immediately popped up on the full screen.

This one has too much filling. Mother's was an empty egg.

The French style, which is simple and smooth, sprinkled with spring onions, is not. Mother's is wavy and looks creamy.

The Spanish style that looks like a hard lump, will it make you eat it like when you make an omelet and it doesn't get fluffy?

What looks dry and crumbly like hotel breakfast is not at all.

I scrolled down another dozen clips until I saw a familiar image of an omelet. with clip name “Cantonese-style scrambled eggs” and over 6 million views seem like a stamp of quality and deliciousness.

Mother is unlikely to know that her eggs are Cantonese. Saying that my mother has eaten in Cantonese is probably not the case. Just imagining inviting my mother to travel to China would make me groan. Or maybe the creator just named the content?

When pressed An image of my mother's omelet suddenly appeared along with the voice of a man whose wrists I could only see and a denim apron.

“Hello everyone. I like scrambled eggs that are soft and flowy like custard. The normal scrambled egg recipe just doesn't sit well with me. Today, let's try making easy Cantonese scrambled eggs at home.”

The images alternate between making scrambled eggs on a Teflon pan. Serve over rice. He took his chopsticks and showed off the softness of the eggs that he was proud of.

“Let's start with the ingredients…”

“Damn!” My phone vibrated. The image of the ingredient list for Cantonese-style scrambled eggs disappeared and a call screen appeared with the word “Mom” on the screen.

“Have you had anything to eat for lunch yet? If you don't have it, I'll buy something for you. Mom is going to see a friend in my neighborhood.”

“I want to try making an omelet like mom. I'm looking at how to do it.”

“Hahahaha, you want to make an omelet like mine.” This time, it was Mom's real voice coming from the other end of the line. I guess I'm just standing there laughing.

“You took grilled pork from the refrigerator and heated it in the microwave and it's still cold. Is that okay?”

“Mom, you don't have to buy anything. I'll make some eggs myself."

“Okay, then Mom will stop by at noon and try it. I have to go find friends in my area.”

“Yes,” I answered in a smooth voice as if nothing had happened and hung up the phone.

Woe is gone.

I returned to the Cantonese-style scrambled eggs clip page and pressed to save the screenshot of the ingredients list. Grabbing your wallet, you opened the door and grabbed your bicycle and headed for the nearest supermarket.

That's enough! Just an omelet, how difficult would it be!

I thought in my heart all the way along with the sound of my mother laughing like she was sitting in the back.

It's a little past nine.

I passed through the supermarket's automatic sliding doors. Grabbing the shopping basket that had been placed at the reception, I walked over to the egg stand in front of me. His right hand plows through his mobile phone to find a picture of a recorded list of ingredients.

5 eggs

half teaspoon salt

half teaspoon sugar

One-eighth teaspoon of white pepper

I need to buy a measuring spoon too.

I thought to myself and sighed softly.

One-eighth teaspoon of MSG or chicken seasoning powder

Half a teaspoon of Chinese liquor

One teaspoon of cornstarch

One teaspoon of sesame oil or lard

I guess Mom didn't have this many condiments. But try picking it up like this first. It might be better.

I read the egg labels one by one.

Number zero, number one, number two

So what number of eggs is this recipe for?

I moved my thumb and quickly typed into the search field: “Quantity of each egg”

Number zero weighs seventy grams or more. Number one weighs sixty-five grams. Number two weighs sixty grams.

Totally different by about ten percent. It shouldn't be anything.

I reached over and put ten number one eggs in the basket. pursed lips slightly

There should still be enough salt. The extra sugar that comes when ordering noodles should be enough.

MSG or chicken seasoning powder Why do we have to choose?

I turned into the condiments section. Look at different brands of chicken seasoning powder. Glancing to the left was a kaleidoscope of white MSG.

Use less than a teaspoon at a time. When will this one bag run out?

I sighed heavily and put the smallest package of seasoning powder in the basket.

Chinese liquor. This one is difficult. Will it be sold here?

I decided to look around for cornstarch first.

Should the things that are powder be together?

I misunderstood. The powder zone is two alleys further down.

sesame oil or lard

I walked towards the various oil zones. The dark-colored sesame oil with the red label on the glass bottle stands out and is different from the familiar oil bottles.

I've never seen a bottle of lard before.

I stepped back from the shelf. and sweep your eyes from top to bottom left to right quickly

There really is.

There was only one brand of lard on the shelf and the last two bottles were left. I reached up on tiptoe and picked it up with the end of my arm and sighed once more when I saw the quantity and price.

Cooking your own food is expensive and not fun at all. If you can't use it in time, you'll have to throw it away.

While I was wandering around trying to figure out which zone the Chinese liquor would be in. An employee pushing a cart full of instant noodles was about to restock the floor just past. Inside is full of newly released curry powder flavored cups.

“There's Chinese liquor here...”

“No,” she answered confidently without looking or listening until the end of her sentence and walked towards the instant noodle stand she had planned on.

I pursed my lips and followed her to pick up a bunch of measuring spoons in the alley next to the instant noodles I was familiar with.

It's almost ten o'clock.

I put everything in the front basket of my tiny bicycle and slowly pedaled home through the strong sunshine. His eyes stared at the egg panels along the way as if to help keep them from breaking when passing through various potholes along the way. When I got home, I lined up all the items in front of the stove and played the clip of the man with the cuffs and denim apron.

“Let's start by cracking eggs and separating the egg whites and beating until foamy...”

His wrist moves deftly and confidently, using both halves of the egg shell to pick up the yolk back and forth to separate the white and scoop it out and set it aside in a bowl next to him.

I pressed stop clip

It definitely wouldn't survive. I must have broken the yolk while scooping it back and forth. Please use your bare hands instead.

I sighed heavily and began cracking eggs one at a time into the edge of the glossy black instant noodle bowl from IKEA that I always use. Holding my breath, I slowly reached down and picked up the yolk and placed it in my favorite, heavy-bottomed whiskey glass that was nearby. I thought back to the day I got this glass from Hokkaido while on a work trip two years ago. The bottom of the one-inch-thick glass is evenly distributed with tiny, fine bubbles that look like glitter when light hits them when pouring colored drinks.

When all five eggs have been separated I washed my hands with dishwashing liquid and then raised my hand to smell it several times to make sure the fishy smell was still there.

Shouldn't I choose to make an omelet? The smell of raw eggs makes you feel nauseous.

I frowned as if I could still smell the fishy smell of that egg from the tip of my hand.

I went back and looked at the picture of ingredients again and carefully used a bunch of measuring spoons to mix everything together a little at a time in a dipping sauce bowl that I bought to use as a dipping sauce when ordering grilled pork neck to eat. If you go for a dipping sauce that is sticky like chicken or plum sauce. I can pour it on the edge of the plate with no problem to reduce the amount of food I have to wash.

half teaspoon salt half teaspoon sugar One-eighth teaspoon of white pepper...

oh! Why isn't there a one-eighth spoon in the bunch? You idiot!

I make a noise. I had to get it myself again.

I shook the white pepper and chicken seasoning powder in a quarter spoon back and forth until I felt maybe half was left, then poured it in.

Chinese wine and lard shouldn't be mixed in here. It must come out like mud.

I skipped over and grabbed a bag of cornstarch and measured out a teaspoon instead.

When the dry matter is finished measuring I pressed the play button to continue the clip.

“Separate the egg whites and beat until frothy. But we don't have to beat it until it's fluffy like we do with meringue.”

Don't worry, I've never made meringue.

I slowly moved the fork up and down in an elliptical motion in mid-air to make it look as similar as possible to the wrist in the clip.

The egg whites didn't seem to cooperate and only looked like faint bubbles on the surface.

can!

I increased my speed until a little bit of the egg white splashed out. But this time, bubbles clearly began to form.

I used my pinky finger, which was pretty clean, to stop the clip and step back to see if the egg whites in my hands looked like the ones in the clip.

Theirs looks like it has big bubbles and isn't as detailed as the one you whipped. But it still doesn't look like meringue. It probably won't be anything.

“When the hit is finished Take the separated egg yolks and seasonings and mix them together gently until combined.”

I poured everything in and used a fork to mix everything together.

Ah, this egg white foam doesn't seem to want to mix with anything else.

I hit harder. Until the egg whites turn a soft orange color.

When the egg cup is put down I sighed so long that I pressed the clip to resume playing during the stove top. This time the man appears up to his elbow in the side camera view.

“Let's heat an empty pan over high heat until the pan is very hot, then add the lard.”

Our stove can be set to number fourteen. It must be number fourteen. And I won't tell you how much oil to put in.

I pursed my lips.

“After the oil starts to heat, pour in the eggs and remove the pan from the heat. When the egg begins to foam around Use a spatula to sweep the cooked portion to the side, allowing the egg in the center to touch the pan, then place it back on the heat. The next layer should be layered with cooked eggs on top of the previous layer so that they do not get exposed to the heat and become overcooked.

Repeat until the eggs are cooked all over but there is still enough to remain thick like this.”

I replayed this part three more times before deciding to put the Teflon pan that came with the pot set onto the stove.

I use my index finger to turn on the stove. Click on the number fourteen. Soon, a faint white smoke rose from the pan.

It seems to be hot.

I uncapped a bottle of lard and poured it in. Make it look like it can roll back and forth like in the clip.

Soon, white smoke began to thicken. Until I had to look up to turn on the hood with the highest power. The smell of oil began to rise, like when walking past an order-to-order restaurant.

All right.

My left hand holds an egg cup. His right hand gripped the wooden spatula tightly.

I held my breath and poured in all the ingredients.

“Sizzling,” the sound of eggs being heated came up along with the familiar smell of omelet.

Should survive.

The end of that thought The eggs in the pan swelled as if they had added detergent. The familiar smell of omelet slowly turned into a bitter, burnt smell.

no! Why isn't it like in the clip?

My eyes widened, both hands tensed. In my heart, there were only constant cries of wailing.

When I regained consciousness, I used a spatula to sweep up the eggs from the bottom of the pan and take a look.

The eggs that turned over began to have black marks. The egg foam rolls up and does not flow down to the bottom of the pan.

“Not anymore.”

I just heard myself exclaim out loud for the first time that day. My right hand suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own and decided to scramble all the eggs in the pan, afraid of the burning smell and the sight of fire engulfing the kitchen.”

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha_

I lifted the pan and turned off the stove. Place the pan on the stove next to it and use your ring finger to wipe away the teardrops at the corner of your right eye.

The eggs in the pan were no different from the hard, burnt omelet that I secretly tried to make when I was just graduating.

Why can't you do it?

I stood with my hands and feet on the counter staring at the eggs in the pan and repeating this sentence in my mind many times.

The image of my mother standing and laughing as she saw my broken egg became more and more clear.

Just like that, Mom laughed again and that was it. Just another story that Mom will tell over and over again when I make a mistake.

I use a spatula to spoon the eggs into the pan. His right foot opened the trash can. Move your right shoulder up to wipe away the tears.

I lifted the egg and gently moved the spatula up and down to make sure there wasn't a drop of oil on the way to the trash can.

“Damn it.”

Half of the eggs fell from the spatula back into the pan.

The inside is still the same as in the clip.

My heart is pounding.

I picked up a fork and poked the egg in the area that still looked like the one in the clip and took a small bite.

Delicious, a little rich but delicious. Shows that at least the condiments can be used. If you use egg size zero it will be just right.

My eyes widened. Mother's laughter disappeared.

Or is it enough to fix it?

I recall the image of those nimble wrists and that denim apron in my mind from the moment I cracked the eggs until I scooped them out onto the plate.

The problem is definitely the temperature and the beating process.

The image of soft orange detergent bubbles accompanied by the smell of burning in the pan came back clearly again.

Should have had to hit it more lightly.

I went back and played the clip again to see what the egg whites looked like after beating. Try to observe the size and amount of bubbles on the surface.

This one shouldn't be difficult to fix. Just look at it the same way and then stop hitting and it should work.

The yellow bubble disappeared from the picture in my mind. There was only a burning smell left, both inside and outside the kitchen.

The fire must be lighter. And when you say the power is strong How strong does it have to be?

I furrowed my brows together.

When boiling water, use only number 10 electricity. Because it was stronger than that and it boiled over. So let's try twelve lights this time. Meet me halfway.

You should probably add less oil when frying. Now my throat is all greasy.

I started cracking the remaining five eggs and slowly separated the egg whites again.

All right.

Holding my breath, I started to beat the eggs with a fork.

My eyes were fixed on the foam of the egg whites.

Got it, like exactly.

I quickly weighed everything and mixed it all up. This time everything came together easily.

I turn on the stove and set the fiber to twelve. Pour in half the lard as before when you see faint smoke appear.

Before the oil is released, a light smoke will appear. I took a deep breath and poured in all the eggs.

“Sizzling” the eggs that touch the pan instantly turn yellow and become thin. There are no more bubbles in the upper checkpoint.

I quickly used a spatula to sweep the spoon over the bottom of the pan. The eggs on top that run down and touch the pan are cooked immediately.

This is right.

I swept the spatula and quickly brought out a thin, soft layer of egg on top of the first layer. Followed by a third layer, then a fourth layer, until an image of Mom's omelet appeared in the pan.

Got it!

Spoon all the eggs onto a plate. Its appearance did not deviate from the intended omelet. But it has a strangely delicious aroma added.

I picked up a fork and flicked it to see how soft and fluffy the eggs were.

Each layer is thinner than the mother's. I feel like the texture is lighter as well. The top thickened into custard exactly like in the clip.

I smiled and took a photo and immediately sent it to my mother.

Mom texted me right back. “Half an hour until.”

Another half hour? It probably won't be delicious by the time it arrives.

End of that thought I grabbed my bag and the same bicycle and hurriedly cycled back to the supermarket again.

Only number zero eggs are missing. Now I have everything.

accurate

I put all the seasonings in the egg yolk bowl. I just heard the sound of my mother's car parking in front of my house, ready to beat the egg whites and mix everything into the pan again. It should take no more than three minutes total.

Immediately, I saw the silhouette of a black sedan pass through the window. I began to move my body through the memories again. The egg whites are beautiful foam. Everything mixed together into a single texture. The frying pan emits an aroma. The omelet came out as intended.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

The sound of Mother knocking on the door was the rhythm that we used to use as a secret code when we were children.

“Please open the door for me. Mom is holding things.”

I scooped the eggs onto a plate and dashed towards the door.

"Oh, it smells so good. Did you just finish making eggs?"

“Mommy, have you eaten anything yet?”

“Not yet. Your friends are probably all waiting at the restaurant. If you're going to bring something to leave, you'll have to leave immediately.”

“Let's taste this first.”

I came back out of the kitchen with a plate of omelets.

Mom's eyes widened even before I put the plate on the table.

“Very delicious! Mom really likes omelets like this. If it comes out dry and cooked, I think it's even more delicious to make it into an omelet.”

Mother spoke in a clear voice, like when she goes to a restaurant and finds a menu that she likes.

“Mom, try it.”

I said as I stared at the egg dish as if I was trying to visually test that it was still as delicious as I intended.

Mom poked the edge of the fork and slowly moved it into the middle of the plate.

“Wow, it's so soft and the inside is cooked in a thin layer.”

Mom's voice was excited.

“I separate the egg whites and beat them first.”

“Even though it came out looking very light. Mother always hit them together from the beginning."

"Oh, but mom's came out the same way."

“It's not like anything I ate when I was a kid and everything was delicious. It looks much more delicious like this.”

Mother flicked the fork to see how soft and fluffy the eggs were and smiled widely as she scooped the eggs up onto the fork and raised them to her nose.

“So what is this cooked in?”

“Half a teaspoon of salt. half teaspoon sugar One-eighth teaspoon of white pepper One part chicken seasoning powder...”

“Is this the way to measure the seasonings? Mother always takes it."

“So what did you cook with?”

“That's all the salt and sugar. And the oil is normal vegetable oil. Do you use lard? Mom said I could smell it.”

“Yes, and there is chicken seasoning powder and sesame oil. And a little cornstarch.”

“Oh, cornstarch is interesting. I'll go try it." Mom looked up as if she was thinking about how cornstarch might make her eggs look better."

Mother looked again at the egg on the tip of the fork and lifted it into her mouth.

I accidentally held my breath Mother's eyes widened.

"very delicious! I've never eaten anything like this anywhere.”

Mom said in an excited tone.

"The next day I have free time, Mom, can I come and see you do it again?"

“Okay, but let me try cooking it with just salt and sugar. If you're full, you might as well keep the cornstarch for another time.”

"Interesting. I'm going to try frying them with lard too. I think it smells good."

"I'll go see my friend today."

Mother turned and grabbed me and hugged me. And the aroma filled with the scent of my omelet once

"very good"

After dropping off my mother, I got into the car and drove away. I walked back to the omelet plate and scooped it up to taste again. His right hand picked up his mobile phone and pressed open the clip "3 simple Japanese style breakfast menus." Continue watching while eating the remaining eggs and making a list of ingredients as well.

It's past 6 a.m.

I slid open the glass door into the kitchen, grabbed 3 eggs, cracked the egg whites and prepared them, then picked up my cell phone and typed a message.

“What did Mom make for breakfast this morning?”