I start with a squeezer, a six-dollar stainless steel contraption that looks like a scissor-like offspring of Mickey Mouse. When the handles are tugged together, a ring of tiny teeth emerges from the center of the device, aimed for the side of your egg. They’re sharp enough to look a little scary, but not, it turns out, sharp enough to break the egg’s boundaries without some effort. One egg shatters completely in my hands, spitting yolk on the kitchen floor. Lacking an egg cup, I balance the next egg in the squat end of my cocktail jigger. The egg topper leaves pinpricks; they don’t do much good.