How to Poach an Egg

When I was growing up we had a house cleaner called Slava who was from somewhere just east of The Adriatic Sea. On meeting her, it became apparent why tension in her homeland prior to WWI gave rise to the term “The Balkan Powder Keg” - you suspected Slava might explode at any moment. Luckily for us, most of her angst was directed at her unemployed, nicotine addicted, alcoholic husband; whom she bagged relentlessly whilst providing a very satisfactory cleaning service - a cleaning service seemingly unavailable today.

Another part of Slava's service was an intimate description of her dental problems - right down to the part where they tore out her teeth, sliced open the gums, and re-inserted new ones. But at least - as the blood poured from her mouth - she continued to work. She was happy to wash up a few dishes (in a household of four children) if they were still in the sink when she arrived at 8.00am. She then spent several hours vigorously scrubbing away her pain.

Things are different now. I was hoping to make fresh pasta today, but had to postpone this, as my cleaners just turn up whenever they feel like it. When they do eventually arrive, and in spite of limited English, they are excellent at communicating their wants - which essentially boil down to “move those piles of shit and get the hell out of here.” Everything must be perfect for their invasion.

Today, I kept the house in its once-weekly pristine condition for what we'd agreed would be a morning arrival. Instead the cleaners dropped by late in the afternoon, just before I had to collect the girls from school. If I was snowed under by several tonnes of flour, they would simply turn around and leave, so I dared not break out any ingredients or cooking implements. So I resorted to something easy to clean up, an impromptu lunch of smoked salmon, poached eggs, and spinach leaves plucked from the garden.

Fortunately fortified by my high-protein lunch, the cleaners, when they did arrive, ejected me from my house in a manner that would make a bouncer at The Ivy nightclub blush. From my exiled position, I deduced the three invaders were carrying one vacuum, one mop and one rag. After thirty minutes they evacuated.

When I engaged the current cleaning brigade I didn’t expect they’d be reorganising my cooking schedule, and nor did I expect to be unwittingly colluding in a grand Sino Ponzi cleaning scheme. The scheme works like this: when you start out with the new cleaners you initially engage with a person who turns out to be The Grand Master (GM). Initial negotiations will be conducted with The GM. The GM will turn up for a couple of weeks and help with the “cleaning” - despite the physical burden of an enormous new Rolex. After some time, the GM disappears and you will be given the telephone number of someone you vaguely identify as one of the assailants who descends on your house each week. This person is Number Two. You must then communicate directly with Number Two, and only resume contact with The GM in emergencies.

Time elapses, and one day Number Two will arrive with a Seiko, and before you know it there's a distinctive flash of a Tag Heuer. This means Number Two’s on the way up, and will shortly evaporate from your life; to be replaced by another person brandishing a copy of their PRC passport to give you comfort they are a suitable custodian of your house key. This person is Number Three - so on and so forth.......

With a profitable business this complex, there’s very little time for either punctuality or cleaning, which means all my plans get blown out of the water and the house merely receives a cursory wipe by three people I no longer recognise. Thank goodness Slava’s husband was too busy sucking at the teat of his wine cask to devise such a dastardly scheme - which meant our house was actually clean when she left. At least my impromptu poached eggs were perfect.

PS See below for how to cook a poached egg - without all the fuss of vinegar, glad wrap, ramekins and a whirlpool.

1) Ideally remove your egg at least 10 minutes prior to cooking so it is about room-temperature.
2) Pour water into a saucepan to 10cm depth and bring to the boil.
3) Once boiling, turn the temperature to low, then wait for the vigorous bubbles to dissipate.
4) Carefully crack in the egg. For a runny egg it will be ready after two and a half to three minutes - depending on egg size, egg temperature and general climatic vagaries.
5) After two and a half minutes use a flat slotted spatula and gently move it under the egg and raise it out of the water to check its progress. (Do not use a round, concave slotted spoon as the yolk will be inclined to collapse through its centre.)
6) The egg is ready as soon as all the white is cooked (ie no visible and wobbling gelatinous white). Allow water to drip off before gently sliding onto your toast.