Keep Your Chocolate Eclair Away From My Eggs
This week's Corrie revealed the rather alarming fact that I have something in common with Roy Cropper. No, I don't carry an old shopping bag nor am I married to a transgender person. But we use the same method of cooking poached eggs.
I call this the 'whirlpool method', which sounds like some arcane form of Catholic contraception.
Roy calls it the 'vortex method'. He has been demonstrating his culinary skills to an award-winning chef. Vera was very puzzled. When he offered to show the man his vortex she thought he had some kind of alien in the kitchen.
Some people add vinegar to the water to make the egg whites congeal. Even some top chefs do this. They should be horsewhipped. And I don't say that just because I'm allergic to vinegar.
With the whirlpool/vortex method, you bring the water to the boil, remove it from the heat, then rotate a spoon very rapidly in the water to create a vortex. Before it loses momentum, quickly drop the egg into the centre of the vortex. The white of the egg will then curl itself around the yolk.
Return the pan to the heat and bring back to boiling temperature, then reduce the heat or remove the pan from the hob and allow the egg to simmer for two to three minutes, according to taste and dependent on your resistance to salmonella.
Perfection guaranteed. Almost. To paraphrase the curate: 'All of this egg is excellent'.
I follow my usual practice of crediting the writer: Debbie Oates. I assume it is she who uses the vortex method and what a shining example of womanhood she must be.
Meanwhile, we discovered that corner shop owner Dev has been spreading his DNA around with Stakhanovite dedication and has now produced enough offspring to cast another spin-off soap on a children's channel.
These revelations led Dame Nancy Banks-Smith in The Guardian to make a joke that must have shocked her many admirers.
Like me, she has been puzzling for 45 years over Ena Sharples' aversion to chocolate eclairs. I think it was the very first episode when Ena walked into the corner shop and said "Half a dozen fancies and NO ECLAIRS."
Now, in the light of Asian Dev's heroic performance as a peripatetic sperm bank for the women of Weatherfield, Nancy says she knows why Ena Sharples kept chocolate eclairs at arm's length.
Try as I will, I cannot think of an innocent meaning to Nancy's little joke.
Ooh, Nancy, you are awful! But we love you.