A Perfect Poached Egg

Steve asked if I had had breakfast that morning.
“No and 'd love to have it with you.”

“Will a crab cake to do?”

“Yes.”

“With a bit of asparagus?” he added.

I'm not going to say no to vegetables I continued speaking with Bonnie on the telephone.

It wasn't long until a toasted crab cake was in front of me, and two spears of perfectly steamed asparagus. Because my eyes aren't quite as sharp as they are with glasses on, and I'm waiting for my new ones from Goo Goo Googles to arrive, I thought Steve had a very large dollop of sour cream on top of the crab cake.

Now I was up for sour cream, and I put my fork to its white glistening surface, only to find that instead I was breaking into a cylindrical poached egg, a small bit of a yellow yolk oozing from its centre.

While I still had my fork and knife and knife in hand, Rebecca arrived in the room with some Frank's Hot Sauce, drizzling it artistically on the side of my plate. What is there to say when a son-in-law delivers such a breakfast except thank you, Steve. You set the bar high.

Later in the day, Rebecca asked him for technique.

“A tablespoon of vinegar to the water, and have it swirling when you drop in the egg,” he shared.

Arta