Never accept your husband’s offer to poach you an egg for breakfast.
I always find breakfast a problem which is why I don’t always eat it until brunch time.
But he suggested a boiled egg and I wrinkled my nose.
Then, I thought, a nice delicate poached egg, cooked in lots of vinegar, would be nice though.
‘I’ll do it,’ he merrily volunteered.
Who’s going to refuse that offer?
Off he trots to get on with it.
My mother used to have one of those fancy egg poaching contraptions. A large sort of frying pan, with a frame, with four holes in it, in which you sat four little egg shaped scoops. Each scoop needed buttering so the egg didn’t stick, and the whole lot would need washing out :(
Washing up is best avoided, and I find those pans produce rubbery eggs.
Much easier method:
Take one non-stick pan, add water around 2/3 full plus LOADS of white wine vinegar.
Bring water to boil, then take pan off heat, slip egg gently into pan, and return to heat but NOT at a boil, it needs to simmer.
Using a slotted spoon, or something similar – I use a wooden spoon for everything – fold the white around the yoke.
Keep an eye on it until it’s ready. I used to like slightly runny yolks but after 30 years of living with Mr I Hate Soft Eggs, I no longer eat soft eggs. So mine cook for around 7-10 mins.
Then, with something slotted again, lift it out of the water and drain it over the pan.
‘Hmm,’ he says. ‘It looks a bit flat.’
It obviously hadn’t curled around itself. Not up to me to interfere.
He kept checking it. It was taking an inordinately long time.
‘Did you put in plenty of white wine vinegar?’
‘Yes but I used Jerez because there wasn’t enough white wine.’
‘Maybe it’s because I used last night’s pasta pan,’ he said apologetically as he looked at his creation. ‘I was trying to save you on the washing up.’
Eventually it arrived. I looked at it. It was SOFT! This from a cook who vomits at the sight of runny yolks.
I squashed the fork on the yoke to prove my point.
‘You eat it.’
‘Er, I’ll put it back.’
Another inordinately long time passed.
Just to relieve the waiting time the Podenco was barking for the now very cold toast.
He has learned that if he barks for something he gets it.
I know this is very bad reinforced behaviour but we live in a flat.
It starts with a slight grrrrr, and if we don’t retrieve the ball from under the furniture, dish up the dog biscuits, or feed him toast, it escalates to a full scale BARK!
Finally (somewhat over an hour) the poached egg and toast appeared. (putting it on the toast makes the toast soggy)
The Podenco was very near the plate. The toast had to be sawed apart thereby putting the egg in jeopardy. The chef de cuisine was in hysterics waiting for the egg to fall on the floor.
Luckily it fell on my legs.
I rescued it. The dogs got their share of toast. It tasted fine. We were all happy.
But I’ll poach my own next time.
More ways to poach an egg than you can poke a stick at.
If you want to do something fancy with them, my favourite is Eggs Florentine, spinach and hollandaise. Perfect. I had a lovely one in NZ, Auckland, I think.
Confessions From A Coffee Shop
What an inviting cover. I love a good cover. This is T B Markinson’s third novel, following A Woman Lost, and Marionette.
While none of the novels are linked, they do have some common themes, among which are, personal relationships (friends and lovers), dysfunctional families, an educational setting, rich families, and the difficulties and fears that lesbians and gays face in admitting their homosexuality (or bi-sexuality) to the rest of the world.
Confessions is a somewhat lighter read than both her previous books. Marionette in particular had some very dark moments (which were well done) so this came as something of a surprise. It’s good to see an author not sticking to the same formula all the time.
It’s well-written, and is a nice easy read. Markinson has a fairly sparse style which I enjoy, so there is no superfluous prose.
Her main characters, Cori and her partner Kat, are well-portrayed, and I liked the twists, the revelations, and the relationships.
I’d say A Woman Lost was café con leche (latte), Marionette was café solo, (espresso) and Confessions is a cappuccino. Depends which coffee you prefer.