Thesis Eggs

Holy mole-y, eaters!

I just finished my thesis. My 106-page, sweat, tears, and butter-filled work of foodie, neurotic passion is done.

Last night I edited out the last typos and checked all the margins and now I’m done. It’s bizarre that this thing that I’ve been thinking about and scratching out for almost a year now is finally complete. It feels too easy.

And since I know that I have been dangling this vague project in front of you for months, peppering my posts with off-handed references and talk of my “thesis recipes,” I have decided to give you a little taste of what has consumed so much of my time for months.

This is the first story in my thesis. Please excuse me if this is self-indulgent of me. If you’re not interested, check back on Wednesday when I will actually be doing a WIAW.


scrambled eggs1

“What if I don’t make it,” I often asked myself in the days after I graduated high school, when graduation and getting into college were no longer gleaming gems floating over my head like in a video game.

“What if I screw up? What if I can’t do it? What if… What if… What if… What if…”

All the probable, improbable, awkward, terrifying, and fantastical possibilities that could/would become the life I was creating for myself in that 11’ by 10’ off-white cinderblock dorm room that I would share with one other girl who I’d never met, circled in my head like water that won’t go down a drain. No number of self-help, college survival books that I read while trying to fill that last, hot, endless summer gave me answers to sink my teeth into.

“Be outgoing.” “Don’t steal your roommate’s food and confront them if they steal yours.” “Join clubs.” “Take whatever classes interest you.” “Don’t feel bad if you don’t know your major the first day.”

All of it rang more phony and cheap than the Ramen noodles they encouraged me to buy by the boxful.

I wanted to know that I was going to be okay. I wanted to know that this new life that I had purposely chosen to make so far away from everyone and every thing I had ever known was going to be a good one. I wanted to know that I wouldn’t look back on College — that weighty and oft-recalled time in so many people’s lives — and regret anything, while also not looking back and thinking they were the best days of my life.

I wanted to know.

But I didn’t, so I set about preparing myself for everything that could happen by buying a wireless printer and a new backpack with lots of pockets and a duvet cover that matched the little rugs I bought and several eclectic-looking plates and bowls and a rice cooker and a decorative trunk for my shoes and and and and and and and. Until I was sure not a single thing else could fit in my half of the 10’ by 11’ off-white cinderblock room that I was going to be sharing with another girl that I’d never met, who ended up bringing a black light and a chair and few other things.

Somewhere between buying two sets of cream colored twin extra long sheet sets and picking out the extra large mini-fridge, I started to know I knew something.

I knew how to feed myself. I knew how to do my own laundry. I knew how to get myself up for class in the morning. I knew how to write papers with appropriate MLA citations. I had a car and I knew how to fill it up with gas and when to get an oil change.

These things I deemed the basic, fundamental life skills that I would need to survive. Because of these things, I convinced myself that I wouldn’t die or in any other way totally fuck up College.

I knew that even though I’d never met the other girl with whom I was to share the 10’ by 11’ room, I had talked to her online and she seemed nice enough. So I knew I was going to be friends with her and eat in the dining hall with her, at least until I had found other friends. I knew that I wanted to write for the newspaper and that someone could help me figure out how to do that. I knew that I had enough money to not have to turn down social invitations for dinners and lunches out or movies on rainy days or shopping trips. I knew that I could offer to drive and that people would like that. I knew that I was showing up to College with a small amount of liquor, so I didn’t have to worry about finding someone of age immediately.

These things I deemed less basic and fundamental, but almost equally important in my pursuit of not screwing up College.

So whenever the “What if…” started circling and circling, but refusing to drain, I poured these facts that “I knew” in like Drain-o. I poured and poured and repeated and rephrased until the “I knew”s so far out-measured the “What if…”s that the crippling, anxiety-producing, all consuming blockage was forced out and the drain could drain and the sink emptied and I could breathe.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Feed. Myself.

Inhale. Exhale.

Feed. Myself.

Feed. Myself.

Inhale. Exhale.

Feed. Myself.


Scrambled Eggs

Yields 1 serving

Scrambled eggs were the first thing I ever learned to cook. Before I could do anything I could scramble an egg. And while the method I use to make scrambled eggs has changed pretty drastically over the years, it still remains one of my most made, most fundamental recipes.


2 whole, fresh eggs

salt and pepper

oil/non-stick cooking spray

Heat a (teflon) pan to medium-low heat. Crack both eggs into the pan, wiping out the inside of the shells to detach all of the whites from the membrane.

Quickly break the yolks and whisk the eggs together using a rubber spatula or wooden spoon. Whisk quickly, taking care to scrape the bottom of the pan, every 30 seconds or so, until the eggs start to set up.

Turn off the heat of the stove, leaving the pan on the burner. Add salt and pepper and whisk continually until the eggs have reached the desired consistency.


Thanks for indulging me. You’re wonderful, eaters.


  1. Sara says:

    Hi Kara – Thanks for recommending cookware with Teflon® nonstick coatings while making your Scrambled Eggs! I represent DuPont and it's always a pleasure to see people recommending our products in their recipes.

    For more great recipes and tips for your cookware with Teflon® nonstick coatings, visit:… and! Also, feel free to check out our Facebook ( and Twitter ( pages. Thanks! Cheers, Sara

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