Some actions in the kitchen require courage. They usually involve cracking something. Coconuts, for one. Those should be left to the experts, or to the foolhardy.
Just cracking an egg open can require an act of courage. There you are, you have to get the job done, and make it snappy. Too light a touch and it gets complicated; the shell cracks but not enough. Too hard, you get egg all over the place. Not to even get into just on what you hit the egg to crack it in the first place. Problem: you don't want shell bits in your egg, do you? Solution: hit the egg firmly and sharply on a flat surface. NOT ON ANY EDGE! Then move over to whatever you are wanting said egg to go into, and spread the shell halves to release that eggy goodness. One hand, or two? One. Repeat, ONE! (Practice.) Courage!
Then there's the fried egg, "Easy Over" style. A friend from the UK had to be taught how to order that style on this side of the pond. She was by nature inclined to say, "Easily over". Flipping that egg to get the other side "easily" over and done (read runny yolk) is an exercise in judgement (when do you do the flipping?); and, then, the actual flipping. Too much, and that critter can get loose and onto the floor. Too little, and only half (if even that) turns over. Courage, indeed!
Last, the omelet. Not those spread-flat-on-the-griddle-and-cooked-to-paper-dryness kind you can get at just about any diner in the country. No, we're talking those sublime light, tender darlings cooked carefully and quickly in a proper round sided pan at places of such fond memory in New York City as Mme. Romaine de Lyon or the Brasserie of past years. Ordering a proper omelet and actually getting it right in most eateries nowadays is in itself an act of courage. And, forbearance.
Here is an earlier post dedicated to the omelet. The omelet done right.