poach an egg; Hard task to hit the palate of such guests, When Oldfield loves what Dartineuf detests. Pope.

Pope.

The cook who wishes to display her skill in[92] poaching, must endeavor to procure eggs that have been laid a couple of days; those that are new laid are so milky, that, take all the care you can, your cooking of them will seldom procure you the praise of being a prime poacher. You must have fresh eggs, or it is equally impossible. The beauty of a poached egg is for the yolk to be seen blushing through the white, which should only be just sufficiently hardened to form a transparent veil for the egg. Have some boiling water in a teakettle; pass as much of it through a clean cloth as will half fill a stewpan; break the egg into a cup, and when the water boils remove the stewpan from the stove, and gently slip the egg into it; it must stand till the white is set; then put it on a very moderate fire, and as soon as the water boils, the egg is ready. Take it up with a slicer, and neatly place it on a piece of toast.

[92]

BOILED EGGS.

On holydays, an egg or two at most; But her ambition never reached to roast. Chaucer.

Chaucer.

The fresher laid the better. Put them into boiling water; if you like the white just set, about two minutes’ boiling is enough. A new-laid egg will take a little more. If you wish the yolk to be set, it will take three, and to boil it hard for a salad,[93] ten minutes. A new-laid egg will require longer boiling than a stale one by half a minute.

[93]

FRIED EGGS.

Go work, hunt, exercise (he thus begun), Then scorn a homely dinner if you can; Fried eggs, and herbs, and olives, still we see: This much is left of old simplicity. Pope.

Pope.

Eggs boiled hard, cut into slices, and fried, may be served as a second course dish, to eat with roast chicken.

EGGS AND BREAD.

Never go to France, Unless you know the lingo; If you do, like me, You’ll repent, by jingo. Starving like a fool, And silent as a mummy, There I stood alone, A nation with a dummy.

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