Well done.

I just had the best scrambled eggs of my life--at a tiny restaurant in restaurant in Birmingham, Alabama: Trattoria Centrale.  These were not the Disneyland eggs found at your typical IHOP, supporting cast devoid of personality and whipped into submission. These were smooth, unctuous layers of luscious, buttery goodness.  They had a weight that indicated more than a touch of cream ... well-salted and peppered, and served with two slices of sunflower bread, toasted to auburn and baptized in unsalted sweet cream butter. This is why people eat scrambled eggs.  I ordered mine "well done." I'm sure they (rightly) thought this was blasphemy against all that is good, kindly ignored my request and then gave me the eggs they wanted me to have. Those eggs changed my outlook on life: If the unassuming scrambled egg can be this lovely, then there is hope for us all. This is how a morning should begin.