There are many weird things that have passed through my hands over the years, and at the moment things are on the way out out out. But I have been thoughtful… perhaps too thoughtful. Nothing has passed by me without thought. Huge amounts of scores and music books went down to a Music Hall museum in Brighton, long before I met Lou. Some things went to auction, others I returned to the people I picked up from as being either too personal or too valuable. Piano to Gatsby etc etc… I’m never in the business of screwing people over. I like the right thing to go to the right place.
One of the things that came to me was a pair of really rather lovely Royal Worcester egg coddlers. I could’ve got a tenner on eBay. I kept them. I have never coddled an egg. Never until today. But I kind of knew that maybe I was the right place for these unusual kitchen tools.
When we were hungry and mum had stuff going on, if she didn’t have her Heinz Ravioli she would hardboil a few eggs, then munge them up with a fork and throw in butter and pepper and salt. “There you go boys, ‘oeufs Americaine’ ” I was a fan. Munged up egg is better than three hour poached skate with disintegrating veg. Eggs are an idea of good easy quick food to me.
I have looked suspiciously at these egg coddlers though. I have my ways of cooking eggs, honed over decades. I know there’s a market for coddlers… I almost flogged them a few times but decided to hang on. Today I finally decided to absorb them into my life.
That’s a single egg, in a little individual coddle. I rubbed the inside of it with butter first before cracking the egg into it. I read that on the internet. Might make it easier to clean? I just went with it. Then the egg and a bit of salt and pepper. Professionals might be thinking about things like cheese and ham at this point, but this was a first trip down coddle street for me. I just went a-coddling. I was following advice I found here at Christina’s Cucina, which is a website that has really sorted out all the links and advertisement type stuff, and which provides a step by step, interspersed with multiple adverts, about how to do it all. Christina is not only better at coddling eggs than I am, she is also better at the internet. Although maybe there are… too many adverts? I dunno, perhaps we are used to this by now. I’ve had adverts switched off on this blog for 4 years now as I think they make things feel less sincere. But perhaps I would be wise to take a leaf from Christina’s cookbook.
Reader, I coddled them. I used the small one and the larger one. I made soldiers. The soldiers got stuck in. Seven minutes, said Christina. For seven minutes that little pot was in the bubbling pan. I have a big pot and a small pot. They both were perfect. Please note, I DO NOT KEEP MY EGGS IN THE FRIDGE. Madness.
Christina is very right about these Royal Worcester coddlers. Sure you can do it in a ramekin but these are attractive and dedicated and vintage and sexy and they totally fit my brand. Get some. And no, I’m not selling the spares on eBay and trying to inflate the price.
The best thing about the result is that you have a soft boiled egg but you can happily mush it all up together with the herbs and spices and whatever you add, and you don’t have to be gentle in case you break the shell. I’m gonna be using those things a lot. Thank you Christina and Ben who they came from. Below is my photo journal of the process. Once they were cooked I took fewer photos as the eating was more important to me. But omnomnom. Those soldiers died happy. And no sign of Molly. Next time I’m gonna put two eggs in the larger one and maybe some other things and start to experiment. But for the basics, 7 minutes in boiling water, and more if you are scared of eggs, as many people seem to be. And nom.
AlBarclay 