Poached
Poached scrambled eggs. Photograph: Felicity Cloake
San Francisco chef Daniel Patterson popped up in the
New York Times a few years ago excitedly proclaiming he'd discovered a new way of scrambling eggs, after his environmental-lawyer fiancée banished Teflon-coated pans from the kitchen, and he got sick of scraping egg from the new cast-iron set. He decided to whisk them together, and then poach them as one would a whole egg: "I expected that they would act much as the intact eggs did and bind quickly, but I did not expect them to set into the lightest, most delicate scrambled eggs imaginable," he exclaims breathlessly in the article.
I'm suspicious – how can eggs cooked without fat of any kind redeem themselves into a decent breakfast? – but I give it a try nevertheless, sieving my eggs, as recommended by Daniel's friend Harold McGee, in order to get rid of the wateriest bit of the whites, given they're not fresh from the farm, beating them together, and then pouring them into a whirlpool in a pan of simmering water. I then cover the pan, count to 20, take a deep breath, and drain them into a sieve. The stuff is distressing to the eye; a weird, scrunched up mass of egg which, even when patted dry with kitchen paper and seasoned with copious amounts of melted butter and sea salt, is barely recognisable as the same foodstuff as I've been cooking all week. One for health fiends only.