The Poached Egg Obsession

It started innocently enough. We often frequent a lovely little restaurant called The Highland Bakery in Atlanta. It has fantastic food, though on the weekends the wait is unbearably long. For the longest while I ordered Ricotta Pancakes every single time I went in there. Occasionally I might have an egg and cheese sandwich, but I'd always go back to the pancakes. Until one day, in a twist of fate and sadness, my pancakes tasted like bacon. I was unforgiving and deeply saddened. I knew that I would never order them again. My soul was a little crushed.

And so I perused the menu anxiously, searching for a new favorite. My eye lighted upon the Eggs Benedict. Now, I like eggs a lot. I like them when the yolk is runny. But I hate hollandaise sauce. So I asked them to make it for me, but to leave off the sauce. When my wobbly poached eggs arrived atop a whole wheat english muffin, I was skeptical. I had been disappointed before. It was possible that this would be a bad date in food land. But instead, as the yolks ran down the side of the muffin and I took a juicy bite, I was overwhelmed with joy and happiness. It tasted fabulous. Just right. And so, I continue to order that same dish whenever we go to that one restaurant. Until a few weeks ago when they started screwing up the order by either adding the hollandaise sauce or, for some inexplicable reason, topping it with sharp cheddar.

I became sad again. My dish was, again, unreliable. I took matters into my own hands. I went to the mall, went to Williams-Sonoma, and purchased a Single Egg Poacher. It is a little egg shaped basket with holes in the bottom. I place it in a pan in shallow water, crack my egg in the little basket, cover it with a lid as best I can, and let it steamily poach my egg away. I take either a slice of toast or an english muffin, plain and dry. When the egg is done, I scoop it out, put it on the carbohydrate base, mash it up, and sprinkle it with salt.
When my husband isn't going to make it home from work, this is what I eat. My choice of dinner. Simple and delicious.

There is something great about choosing to eat something so simple alone. Oftentimes, I eat this sitting at my desk with my laptop open, frumpy and disarrayed. It is an easy joy and I like my eggs better than anyone elses.