There’s no real secret to making perfect poached eggs. Just that the eggs must be absolutely fresh. I’ve tried various methods, but now I simply boil water, crack in the eggs and simmer gently (or take the pan off the heat and leave them in the hot water) until they look right. Which was what I did for lunch yesterday. Only thing I got wrong, which I didn’t notice until I was sitting down to eat them, was forgetting to toast the bread. Poached eggs on a slice of dry bread isn’t nearly as nice as on toast.
I didn’t go out at all yesterday, because the weather wasn’t very good. I did various dull jobs and watched television, which is v bad, as they say. Today turned a bit chaotic. I went to church in good time as I was both playing the organ (practise in advance? What a good idea that would have been) and making coffee after the service. I thought I’d just dump the milk and bikkies (Jammie Dodgers, which were all I had as it was raining and windy and I couldn’t face cycling in to the shops) in the kitchen, switch on the immersion heater and the hot water urn and do the rest later. However, I couldn’t unlock the kitchen door. I got my key out of my bag (I’d used the one in another locked room) and that didn’t work either. I was flummoxed. Fortunately, someone had forgotten to bolt the hatchway doors, so I climbed in through the hatch to try from the other side. I found that the cable from the urn was caught in the door jamb.
Eventually I got it out (we’ll go for the short version here) and unlocked the door and got on with things, but it all took nearly half an hour. Then I found that one of the hymn numbers written down wasn’t the one I expected to play and another hymn was one I can play on the clarinet but not on the organ – some of these very flowing modern hymns are okay on a piano but just don’t go on the organ and besides I’m a lousy organist if I don’t work hard at it – so I changed it, with no time, by then, to practise anything. It was okay. One hymn, I even played well. Would have been better if I hadn’t lost count of verses in the final hymn, but there we go. The art of humility is won through humiliation.
Today’s lunch was especially delicious, cooked by Weeza and Phil. Zerlina was still wearing her bee backpack and very happy. Tonight, we won’t eat much. Possibly soup – there’s still plenty left of the minestrone. Or there’s always a poached egg.