Scrambled Eggs & Chinese Five-spice

I once had an ex-boyfriend who fancied himself a bit of a chef. He even had the chequered pants to prove it (although I’m pretty sure you can just buy them on Amazon). So when I found myself one day with a hankering for scrambled eggs and someone who was more than willing to cook them for me, how could I have said no?  

The thing I love about scrambled eggs is just how easy they are. They’re a no-brainer.  You only need a frying pan and one ingredient - egg (ok, maybe a few more if you’re feeling fancy). How could anyone possibly mess that up?

By adding Chinese five-spice, that’s how. 

If you’re not familiar with Chinese five-spice, the most common ingredients you’ll find in it are, star anise, cloves, Chinese cinnamon, Sichuan pepper, and fennel seeds. All ingredients that have no business being anywhere near scrambled eggs.  

I didn’t question it at the time. Sure, I was sceptical, but he was the one with the chequered pants after all. Who knows, it could have been the best scrambled eggs I’d ever had. 

They were the worst scrambled eggs I’d ever had. The rich, savory taste of egg, combined with the liquorice sweetness of the five-spice is a combination that should never be repeated. Yet, somehow, I had the misfortune of suffering through it another two more times. 

After the first incident, I still found myself craving scrambled eggs. If anything, I wanted them even more now. But without all the nonsense. A little salt and pepper maybe, that’s all the seasoning I needed. 

So, the next day, I announced I was making scrambled eggs (“Oh, no, it’s ok. I insist. I’ll make them this time.”) Somehow, I still found myself waiting miserably for what I knew was going to be a disappointing meal. 

By now, you’re probably wondering why didn’t I just say I didn’t want the five-spice? I have a voice, I could have spoken up. I wish I had, but it’s an understatement to say this ex was never good at taking constructive criticism. It was easier to suffer through a terrible meal than to speak up. There’s a reason he’s an ex, after all. 

By the time I finished the last bite, the eggs were cold. Each bite had somehow been worse than the last, as if the taste of the spices had compounded on my tongue. It had been an effort not to gag as I willed myself to swallow. 

After that, I let go of any dreams of ever having scrambled eggs ever again. I still craved them more than ever, but it wasn’t worth the risk. I couldn’t eat the five-spice again. 

But, eat it again I did. This time, I hadn’t even mentioned the word egg. But, much like the kid who gets dinosaur themed presents every year because they mentioned how much they liked them one time, scrambled eggs were apparently now my thing. 

So, I watched on in dread as the offending spices were sprinkled liberally into what was to be my breakfast. I made sure I had enough coffee to wash it down. Maybe if I was lucky, I could burn my taste buds off. 

I’m not sure how I made it through that breakfast. I think I’ve buried the memory somewhere deep. I’m also not sure how I put an end to it. Maybe I just threw the five-spice out. Either way, I never had his version of scrambled eggs ever again. When I finally had them plain for the first time after that, I could have cried.

For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever have Chinese five-spice in my house. Seeing it at the grocery store is enough to make me shudder. It can’t hurt me now, I know that, but the memory of it has been seared into my brain. Much like sweet-and sour sauce (that’s a story for another time), it’s a taste that will haunt me for the rest of my days. 

Note: I’m happy to report, my current boyfriend has never added anything remotely exotic to his scrambled eggs. I think I’ve found a keeper, he would be just as horrified about the idea of adding Chinese five-spice as I am.