How hard is it to poach an egg?
A lot harder than boiling one, and way more difficult than frying. Mine always end up with runny whites, or angry and rubbery from being overboiled.
But today I had a chance encounter with a perfectly poached egg – well, two actually.
It was one of those rushing-about, not-quite-ready, where’s-my-jumper mornings, with a pinch of tripping-over-the-cat. Then Ted helped me take a small mountain of parcels to Brixton post office, and after half an hour of battling the automatic machine (with help from a very lovely lady) the parcels were finally weighed, stamped and dispatched.
What a relief.
I needed coffee. I stepped outside the post office.
As if by magic, this sign appeared: