You all may find this shocking, but until today I'd never poached an egg. Not really, anyway. I used to have one of those four-little-cups contraptions that you put in a shallow pan of water.
But I'd never brought water just to a simmer, cracked an egg into a cup or ramekin, and slowly dipped it into the water.
Today, with some of the last of last week's bread (which is STILL friggin' good), I decided I wanted eggs; and I wanted them poached, and I didn't have the little cup thing anymore; and I wouldn't have used it even if I did because it's not convenience it's just lazy.
You know what? The friggin' thing worked. I mean, I lost some of the white (more than I expected) which leads me to believe that the water temp was just a hair low or I dropped the eggs just a touch too quickly.
But in the end, I had two soft pillows of egg surround a just-barely-thinking-about-setting-on-the-edge yolks on top of a thick slice of American Sandwich Bread.
Bec would not call them soft-poached. Neither would I. They were in fact more akin to the soft-boiled eggs of our youth than to the barely poached wisps I shovel over corned beef hash in diners across America.
As fancy as I get with techniques and recipes, and as comfortable I get with recipes I have memorized; I still have fun with little things I haven't picked up along the way. Like poaching an egg and having it not suck.
Happy Monday y'all.
[UPDATE] Good catch Jess. Yes, I did add a tablespoon of white vinegar to the water before I put the eggs in. I was likely just thinking too much about bubbles breaking eggs and didn't let the water come to enough of a simmer.
1 comment:
My Mimi is an egg poaching goddess. She has passed her goddess-esque egg poaching ability down to me. I have poached and basted eggs with every varying technique out there. Job well done, sir.
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