How Do You Like Your Eggs, Sir (or Madam)?

A couple of posts back when I was extolling the virtues of J and her miraculous composting skills, I made a throw-away remark that such was the heat generated in her heaps/bins ‘. . . you could coddle an egg in there or slow cook a casserole!’ not that I had ever done either, you understand. It was, I thought, just one of those neat little concoctions that strung things along and added a bit of colour to the sentence. A throw-away remark!

So, it came as a bit of a surprise (and a twinge of guilt) when someone, whose own writing I admire greatly, came back with a comment on the post ‘. . . do you really coddle eggs in there?’ a comment that was followed up by an email about her granny’s egg coddlers. That thown-away remark had been well and truly ‘fielded in the deep’, as John Arlott used to say.

Now, I have never owned an egg coddler, the closest I have ever got to one was in the pages of ‘Antiques’ magazine in the dentist’s waiting room. Something had to be done; I know I’m full of ‘bull’ but pride doesn’t want others to think the same. I wasn’t about to try cooking a slow casserole but I could try poaching an egg without exerting too much effort and if it didn’t work I could always slink off into a dark corner somewhere and suck my thumb! The results are shown in the following photos; and no comments about ‘Photoshop’ either, if I’d used that I’d have doctored the burnt bits on the toast!

in the cooker
on the cooker


ransom note with date


on toast




‘scrummy in the tummy!’
 Alan in Okçular