Several years ago, my favorite frying pan, a wedding present, sat sunny side up in the dirty side of my stainless steel kitchen sink. I grimaced at the thick layer of caked-on, burnt scrambled eggs. Make that disgusting side up. Rather than wake me at an ungodly hour, my husband, Adam, had fixed his own breakfast. Only most of it had stayed behind in the supposedly nonstick skillet. It would take a really good scrubbing to get it clean. I groaned. Why couldn’t you have just poached them in the microwave, honey? Sighing, I turned away from the sink. I had to make my ownRead More →