[#WhatIsThisStoryHouse] Our Fried Egg Controversy.

This is a small story that could happen anywhere.


Yes, it is a story about fried eggs. What to put on a fried egg. It continues to spark new controversies even today.

Differences in households are differences in culture. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. A bride's patience is, well, you know.

"Mother-in-law. I want to eat my fried egg with sauce, not soy sauce."

The Sato family had just finished renovating their two-family home. Misaki, the daughter-in-law, spoke up at the quiet dining table, where only the sound of birds and her father-in-law's sneezing could be heard.
Her mother-in-law, Sachiko, stopped her chopsticks and slowly looked up. Her gaze was fixed on the perfectly hard-fried egg sitting on Misaki's plate.

"Oh, Misaki. It's decided that fried eggs go with soy sauce, isn't it? Sauce would just ruin the flavor of the egg."

Sachiko's argument is an absolute rule in this house. In her husband Kenta's family home, for decades, "fried eggs with soy sauce" has kept the peace at the table. However, in Misaki's family home, she had been taught since she was a child that "fried eggs with Worcestershire sauce" was the way. Her father, mother, and their parents before them always had Worcestershire sauce on the table.

"But it's really delicious when the sauce mixes with this hard-fried egg. Won't you try it once?"

Sachiko frowned at Misaki's proposal, which she had stated quietly while sitting up straight.
Her husband Kenta, oblivious, gave a bitter smile and said, "It doesn't matter which one, let's just eat," and started eating after pouring his own soy sauce. This man's attempt at neutrality only added fuel to the fire.
Misaki, who inwardly felt like clicking her tongue and saying "Huh?", took a deep breath, thinking, "No, no, I mustn't get upset over something like this so soon after getting married."

Sachiko continues.

"That's not the point. Food culture is the history of a family.If you've married into this family, it's only natural to first get used to the way this house does things, don't you think, Kenta?"
"Don't drag me into this."

Sachiko's words contained an implicit pressure regarding how a daughter-in-law should behave, going beyond a mere discussion about condiments. An indescribable sense of rebellion flared up in Misaki's chest.


Misaki thought. Yes, if I, the daughter-in-law, back down and keep enduring it, there won't be any waves. However, in order to establish my position in the family going forward, I must state my thoughts clearly here and now.

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I understand that. But I also think that cooking reflects how a person has lived.Just as you love soy sauce, Mother, I love sauce. It's not a matter of which one is right and which one is wrong, right?" She glances at her husband Kenta.
"Don't drag me into this."

Her father-in-law coughs and presses the TV remote. He's a man who has good timing, even though he was acting like it had nothing to do with him.

With trembling hands, Misaki pulled the soy sauce bottle at the edge of the table toward her. Sachiko's complexion clearly changed. In the tense atmosphere, Kenta tried to intervene in a panic, but before he could, Misaki poured the soy sauce over her fried egg. The black liquid spread over the vibrant yellow yolk.

"...Itadakimasu"

Sachiko muttered that, then picked up the soy sauce again and poured plenty onto her own portion. The rift between the two was scorched deeper than the doneness of the eggs, but Misaki had taken the first step toward compromise.

Strangely, the tense atmosphere loosened just a little.
The voice of the news anchor energetically announcing today's weather echoed.

A fluffy, gentle flavor spread throughout her mouth. Misaki's cheeks relaxed more than she had expected.

...It's delicious, it tastes nostalgic, Mother-in-law.
I thought you'd say that.

However, her mother-in-law stubbornly refused to meet Misaki halfway.
Sachiko believed that since Misaki had called it delicious, the Sato family flavor would continue to be 'soy sauce' from now on.

Just as Misaki was about to say something, an unexpected ambush stood up, holding a tube in her small hand.

It was her five-year-old daughter, Misato.

Here you go, Grandma.

She said, and drew a cute heart shape on top of Sachiko's soft-boiled fried egg—the one cooked to her exacting standards.

With mayonnaise.

With a proud look on her face, she announced, "It's a heart!" The clumsy love of a five-year-old. Who could possibly refuse to accept it?

Misaki also said, "...W-well, that's very sweet of you, Misato," though her voice trembled at the end.
She might be able to refuse her daughter-in-law's sauce, but she had no choice but to accept her granddaughter's mayonnaise.

Oh, thank you, Misato-chan!
The dam of the mother-in-law's heart, which had stubbornly rejected anything foreign, began to melt. She was desperate not to break her granddaughter's heart.

Before anyone noticed, the father-in-law had started adding it to his own fried egg as well—the mayonnaise.
...A new flavor isn't so bad, is it?

By hiding it, a new flavor for the Sato family was born. In this way, food culture and tradition are protected, broken, and created.

Through love.

#WhatIsThisStoryHouse

By the way, I am firmly on the mayonnaise side.