When I was a kid, my grandmother made me eat a hard boiled egg for breakfast every morning. Every. Single. Morning. She’d get up, boil the egg, get me ready for school, and then feed it to me as we walked to the local day care center. The egg was never seasoned in any way — no salt, no pepper, just a plain ol’ boiled egg; slimy and smooth on the outside, dry and powdery on the inside. Needless to say, I was not happy with my breakfast, brain food notwithstanding, and constantly tried to avoid eating it. Some days I’d whine, other days I’d beg, but mainly I would obediently take big bites of the boiled egg, chew, and then spit it out...
