I can't poach an egg

Not one to indulge in a big breakfast too often, this morning was an exception. Following a hard Friday at work I hit the red wine and on my wander home had an unusual forward thinking epiphany and bought the ingredients for a morning fry up.

In my vain attempt at legitimising my inevitable satfat intake I chose to grill the meat then piled on the mushrooms and tomatoes (two of my five-a-day by breakfast? McKeith would be proud). About to take the sensible option; whisking and scrambling the egg, I heard another Dr Gillian whisper in my ear. Foolishly, I listened and went for the grown-up option; the healthy option: the yummy mummy poached egg. Only, I can't poach an egg. Rookie mistake.

Realising my disadvantage I chose wisely (i thought) the River Cottage Family cookbook. A compilation of basics aimed at both children and their parents I imagined I couldn't go far wrong. Well Huge Furry - it did go wrong.

So what happened? I boiled the water 'til it was 'rolling' with bubbles, stirred it round and round with a wooden spoon, plopped a lovely free range egg in the centre, covered the pan with a nice tight lid and turned off the heat. 

No fluffy egg cloud for me. Instead, swirling in my pan was an ugly mess of white ectoplasm (or egg-toplasm) with a small orange furry blob lost in the middle.I can hear Sophie Dahl sniggering over her rooibos tea already...

I'm now left with two choices. A - Try, try again. Experiment with vinegar levels, freshness of eggs, vigorousness of swirl. Or, B- buy an egg poacher. They're quite nice things really, in all shapes and sizes - hearts, flowers, bunnies. But I wonder whether amazon sell one shaped like a dunce hat...

A final word. I'd like to apologise to the chicken whose egg I wasted. Please don't take it personally.

Nx