(or If Sydney Smith Can Do It, So Can I)
For your forgiveness everyone I beg
For giving out this recipe one more time
Again I tell you how to poach an egg
But this time do the blasted thing in rhyme.
First get some water, fresh from tap or well
And pour into a poaching pan or pot
Put this upon the heat and wait a spell
Till seething water tells you that it’s hot.
Into this water add a spoon or two
Of the best vinegar made from wine or malt
But one thing you must never ever do
Upon your life don’t dream of adding salt
Now from a hen who lives on primrose path
Break in a cup an egg so fresh its hot
Insinuate this in the bubble bath
(Which is the water boiling in the pot)
But only now the therms should be reduced
The water should just shudder on low heat
From that time when the egg was introduced
Until opaque and lifted out to eat
How long that this should be is up to you
It hangs on how you like your egg to be
Soft yolkéd after one minute or two
Or hard boiled should you give it four or three
Now lift it forth by use of slotted spoon
And let it stand over the pot to drain
Don’t dream to put it on the toast too soon
Or this will taste like cardboard after rain
Now put it on the slice of wholemeal toast
Which you have buttered should you like the taste
(It all depends on what you like the most
The taste of butter or a slender waist)
And then, at last the the breaking of your fast
When finally your hunger pangs you quell
But for a taste forever unsurpassed
Anoint with pepper and some Fleur de Sel
Comments
Head-the-Ball
on March 13, 2008March 13th. 2008: Martin, may your birthday breakfast be a poached egg served with due respect, and may your next 39 years be at least as enjoyable as the first.
Martin
on March 13, 2008Ah well remembered Head old son. (never forget it was your daughter who started me off on this poetical nonsense)
Kieran
on March 21, 2008Well done! That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Fleur de Sel in verse…
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