Poaching eggs in blisteringly hot, spitting oil is the kind of thing that seems like a fabulous idea, until it isn’t. All sorts of things can happen, it seems, and it’s highly unlikely you’ll escape without experiencing a shower of flaming hot oil. There’s also a very good chance that:
A: your smoke detector will start shrieking, sending your kitties into a wild-eyed, freakish sprint back and forth across your hardwood floors
B: your hot oil will go up in flames, potentially searing off your carefully waxed eyebrows (thankfully I avoided this)
C: your kitchen will be covered in big fat goblets of greasy oil. These fatty goblets will continue to appear for days afterward in the most unlikely places. Sometimes with bits of egg attached.
D: if you are lucky enough to end up with one good egg, it will get cold and mushy while you are trying to tackle the second egg.
Actually, my first egg did taste heavenly — crunchy on the outside and soft and creamy on the inside — but the mess and the burns really didn’t make up for it (at least not on a work night). Perhaps I will attempt the dish again on a weekend when I have more time and patience. Thankfully, my husband and go-to breakfast cook whipped up his famous fried eggs for us instead, which we plopped over plates of prosciutto drizzled with olive oil. Paired with a caprese salad, dinner was saved. Yeah for husband!