Unlikely

The toast got too dark. The egg poached for a minute too long. The light was not good for a photo, and the plate shone in all the wrong places.

But the liverwurst underneath the egg redeemed it all.

Such a strange pairing! My Beloved was making liverwurst sandwiches for his lunch while I was poaching an egg for mine and the idea just popped into my head.

It made a simply elegant lunch - with a tad more refinement, it could have been poached egg on a bed of paté. The hot egg softened and nearly melted the wurst, and the mingled flavors just worked. I can't describe how and why it worked - it just did.

Next time, well, yes, I'd just toast the toast rather than incinerate it, but I'd still slightly overcook the egg and I'd definitely spread a slice of liverwurst onto the bread before topping. Sometimes, the best lunch ideas are the most unlikely.

A Good Egg

When I was in high school in Arlington, Virginia my Dad was working at the dreaded Pentagon, his least favorite duty station. While he knew his work there was important, it didn't contain any of the activities he joined the Navy for, such as flying airplanes or sailing in ships, and it was heavy with bureaucratic bullshit. We both used to go off to our days back then with leaden tread, as my opinion of high school was about the same as his of Pentagon duty.

There was a bright spot to most days, however. Breakfast. By that time, my mother had given up making breakfast for either of us, figuring we were independent enough to pour our own cereal or cook the occasional egg. She stayed comfortably in bed while we munched away in companionable early morning silence, he reading the front and sports pages of The Washington Post while I read the comics.

When I was moved to make poached eggs, his favorite, I'd make some for him, as well. There was something intimate and domestic about cooking for someone else, especially my Dad, who was so appreciative; perhaps that's where my love of cooking emerged? The pan steamed, the toast popped, the butter spread and it was ready. I did it often enough that today I can boast I make great poached eggs, perfectly cooked and presented using only one pan, one spatula, one plate, and one knife and fork.

Every morning that I cooked eggs, Dad and I would do this nonsensical little routine. I'd start it by asking with a twinkle, as I cooked:

"Dad, how do you like your eggs?"

and he'd reply, also twinkling,

"I like my eggs"

and I'd say,

"No, no, I mean - how do you like 'em cooked?"

and he'd say,

"Oh, I like 'em cooked!"

Made us chuckle every time. Dad and daughter bonding. Goofy stuff. I'd give anything to be able to go over our routine with him again.

Happy Father's Day to all you fathers out there. Don't worry that you're not doing enough for your kids - it's the little things they will remember. They know you're a good egg.

Substantial Substrate

A few days ago, I made a delicious and beautiful veggie melange that My Beloved tasted and said, in essence,"Where's the beef?" He's a dedicated carnivore, even more so than I am. Not wanting to a) finish the giant pan of veggies all by myself or b) throw them away, I decided to doctor them up as a cushion for a couple of poached eggs.

I started by sautéing in just a driz (not a full drizzle) of EVOO one and a half Italian sausages, squeezed out of their casings into little bibbits that I browned thoroughly before adding a chopped onion and three minced shallots to soften in the sausage drippings. Added the already-roasted, diced veggies and let them all get familiar with each other over a low flame. When they were a little toasty and starting to brown and get crisp, I boiled some water and poached a couple of eggs per eater.

Poaching eggs is easy - the ticket is to start with very hot water just deep enough to cover the eggs, rapidly boiling. Crack each egg and lower it almost into the water before opening the shell and letting it slide very gently into the water. (Vinegar in the water makes everything taste icky - don't do that).

The cool eggs will stop the boiling of the water - this is good. Turn the heat down to the lowest setting and just let them sit in the simmering water until they are done to your liking. I test the white - when it is firm to the touch of a spatula, the yolk will still be runny. If you like the yolk to be firmer, just wait a few more minutes and watch carefully as the yolk hardens from the outside toward the center.

Scoop out the eggs with a slotted utensil when they are perfectly to your taste and hold them at a gentle angle against the side of the pan to allow the excess water to drain away. They are slippery little devils - if you make the angle too steep, they will slide back into the water and you'll have to go fishing again.

I plated the veggie/sausage mixture and topped it with the eggs. The yolk trickled down amongst the veggies, enriching an already pretty rich dish. Nobody went to bed hungry. My Beloved was less enthusiastic about this dish than I was but he liked it better than the pre-sausage, pre-onion stage. I'm happy that there is just a small serving of the mixture left, which I will heat for my lunch and top with another egg.

Egging Him On

Spring cleaning is a hallowed tradition, but not one that My Beloved and I really adhere to. We tend to leave cleaning until there is absolutely nothing else in the entire world to do, or when we can no longer function in our space, whichever comes first.

Inevitably, it's the latter.

We always groan and roll our eyes when that day comes, but we do finally bite the bullet. This week, it was the garage. Because My Beloved works from home and represents several factories, we have an ever-changing inventory of samples, pamphlets, leaflets, returns, defectives, empty boxes, packing materials and just plain junk in our garage sharing space with my collection of toolbox, gardening and cleaning supplies and tools, saddle, bridle, boots (haven't owned a horse in 15 years but I cherish my tack), brooms, buckets, spare paint cans, shipping boxes, seasonal decorations - the list is epic and mostly boring. That's what garages are for, right?

Every now and then, when the jumble-sale-to-be that is our garage becomes totally unworkable, we get down to business and recycle his outdated literature, cut up the extra boxes for recycling, corral the so-annoying packaging "peanuts" and get down to where the floor can actually be swept. We do have very nice shelves all around the periphery of the garage, so it shouldn't get this bad, nor should righting it take this long but, *sigh*, it always does.

He does most of the work, since only he can make sense out of his stuff; mostly, I'm just out there sweeping around him and egging him on.

The other thing we are trying to clean out is our double supply of eggs. So, when we had put two solid hours into the garage reorganization and decontamination project, I decided he had earned a hearty lunch. Searching through the fridge, I found the makings for a perfect lunch to keep his energy up for the afternoon - poached eggs on Pain au Levain from Acme, with Swiss cheese and asparagus.

There isn't much to tell you about how to do this but, for what it's worth, here's what I did. Got a pan of water boiling that was big and deep enough for all the eggs, then added the asparagus to it after washing and snapping the ends. The asparagus simmered for only about three minutes, as they were the nice little thin ones, before I scooped them out and set them aside. To the same, now faintly green, water I added the eggs. I don't swirl the water to keep the whites together and I detest the practice of adding vinegar to the water to achieve that goal. Vinegar changes the texture of the whites and leaves an aftertaste. Yes, I lose some of the white where it thins out and sometimes tears, but I prefer that to textural and taste losses.

While the eggs poached for a few minutes, I cut the center slices from a loaf of Pain au Levain and toasted them, buttering while still hot (a single center slice of that bread is so big that it easily accommodated two eggs) and topping them with a slice of Swiss cheese. I love the combination of the nutty cheese with the rich eggs and fresh asparagus.

I sliced the asparagus lengthwise in half, to make a firmer foundation for the slippery eggs - those went on top of the cheese, laid like cord wood.

I test the eggs for doneness by gently pressing the thickest part of the white. When it is firm all the way through, the eggs are done. My Beloved likes runny yolks, so I lifted his from the water first and prepped his plate. The extra 30 seconds or minute in the water was enough to firm up the outside of my yolks, just the way I like them. Fresh ground pepper and a tiny spritz of the Hawaiian sea salt that was my Christmas present. That's really all there is to it. No foolin'.

We fell upon this lunch like the proverbial pack of wolves. Having consumed the protein that would fuel the rest of the work, we each ate a couple of tangerines for quick carbo energy and, thus fortified, hit the decks for another two hours of sorting, organizing, cleaning and recycling. We filled our recycling bin entirely (it is chest high on me) and invaded our neighbors' as well. I'm proud to report that one can now walk entirely around the car, even with the garage door closed, without tripping over a single thing.

We keep opening the garage door just to gaze at our shining achievement. It should stay pretty for, oh, a week or two, tops.

Easter (Week) Eggs

Can you think of anything as versatile as eggs? I can't, and I suppose that's why I found myself with two dozen of the little beauties this week - I bought a dozen at Marin Sun Farms' butcher shop last weekend when we drove out to Point Reyes Station for fun and forgot that I had another dozen of organic eggs from a larger farm in the fridge.

So, I've been finding all kinds of ways to serve eggs, but this was easily the simplest and one of the best. Poached eggs on English muffins with sautéed mushrooms. One pan, ten minutes and you have dinner.

I sliced and sautéed the 'shrooms in a healthy pat of butter, then drizzled in a tad of lemon juice before spooning them on top of the toasted, buttered muffins. Added water to the same pan and poached the eggs once it had come to a boil. Slid them on top (it's all slippery - be careful!), salted, peppered and there you have it. Maybe shoulda wandered out to the herb patch for some fresh ones but I didn't. Served alongside a cold artichoke with lemon-mayo dipping sauce, spring dinner par excellence!

Sweet Collard Lunch

In deference to the sensibilities of my squeamish reader from Down Under, I didn't pierce the poached egg and allow the brilliant yellow yolk to run over the bed of slow-cooked sweet collard greens, pan fried slices of Yukon Gold potato and criss-crossed rashers of bacon until after I had taken the picture. You'll just have to use your imagination.

This was lunch at Axe in Venice, California, which began life as a funky little beach town but has become quietly gentrified so the mix of surfers, body builders, musicians and assorted strange agents is now anchored with some yuppie types as well. In response to the yuppies' money, some pretty nice restaurants have emerged to jostle for space with the coffee, surfboard, book and chi-chi clothing stores. Los Angeles has never been famous for its food but we managed to find some pretty tasty meals while we were down south.

We were in Venice to link up with our Michigan friends, Wenirs and Ray, and their two grown children, one of whom flew in from Baltimore, plus two local friends of their son's. We had lovely weather and lots of time to enjoy the Venice/Santa Monica areas while catching up with some of our favorite people on earth.

We ate lunch on a beautiful Saturday and then moved up to the Getty Center to admire the architecture, the gardens and the pristine view of the whole Los Angeles basin stretched out below us. The infamous LA smog was washed away by recent rains and we could see clear down to Long Beach and beyond. The mountains that ring the city were clearly visible and distinct in the distance, with their alluvial fans spreading at their bases. In fact, it was all so lovely outside that we never did venture in to view the art work - we'll save that for a smoggy visit. Instead, we walked all over the Center until our feet were tired, then took up residence in chairs at one of the coffee shops on the plaza and basked in the dangerous ultraviolet rays of Southern California, contented as lizards on warm stones.