To fry an egg on the pavement, that is? I decided to give it a try. Brought a couple of expired eggs I found in the fridge this morning with me on the way to The New Yorker to drop off my batch, and in the company of Sam Gross and Marisa Acocella Marchetto (who also had nothing better to do, you may be thinking—but we’re a curious lot, we cartoonists, and indulging our curiosity is part of our job) and an intrigued onlooker, cracked an egg in front of O’Lunney’s Pub on West 45th street.
Well, it didn’t fry! In fact, the sun above it seems to have caused a slight congealing on top, but nothing from the pavement. I guess it’s just an expression.
Anyone else try it with any success?