Frank Greenall
LIKE the beads on an abacus, it's the little things that count.
Another week, another teeming flock of issues, crises and catastrophes. So many, so relentlessly chaotic, they make the feathery swarms in Hitchcock's movie The Birds seem like doves placidly on the wing.
Aleppo, Boko Haram, hurricanes in Haiti, typhoons in Taiwan, Trump on the stump, Paula Bennett valiantly combating climate change, TPP, WWTP ... the head hurts with the sheer scale of barbarity, venality and ignorance driving many of these issues.
But in the meantime, life goes on. The housekeeping still to be done, the rubbish to put out. And often, like the beads on an abacus, it's the little things that count.
Take the humble chook egg in all its perfection -- a masterpiece in industrial design, with a convenient pointy end tooled to emerge first, and a robust waterproof shell to protect an invaluable inner containing all the elements which (with a bit of rooster) can produce a brand new chooklet.
Or, alternatively, able to provide humankind with innumerable nutritious power snacks, be they boiled, poached, scrambled, fried, nogged, omeletted or Benedicted.
Regarding the former -- the redoubtable boiled egg -- its seeming simplicity of preparation belies the drastic consequences of getting it wrong.
On a good day, when the timing's just right, the kitchen knife crisply removes the crown to reveal a nicely firmed white with suitably contrasting fluid yolk -- the perfect consistency for dunking loyal toasted soldiers on the road to martyrdom.
Get it a few seconds wrong, however, and in the word of Mr Micawber -- disaster!
Yolk overdone, and the soldiers' chances of yolky penetration are irrevocably dashed. Egg underdone, though, and confrontation with a gooey, gelatinous white is equally repugnant. For those reliant on a positive start to the day, either outcome can be a depressing setback.
Should it occur on a regular basis, the consequences can be terrible to behold. I've known victims beset by consistently overdone yolks whose crushed morale has triggered an eggsistential crisis. Of trembling hand and facial tic, the afflicted once-confident individuals enter a personal purgatory with no respite without lengthy therapy.
Dear readers -- I know. I too was once one of those people. But there's hope.
THIS WILL ASTOUND YOU.
I thought my personal breakthrough on the boiled egg front was of no small moment, but apparently not. Those to whom I've introduced this cunning technique have been so astounded and eternally grateful that one feels duty bound to inform the wider community.
If only it was patentable, I would be a multi-millionaire as we speak.
Here are the key rules:
�Err on the side of caution. If your yolks are hard, reduce the boiling time by at least 30 seconds.
There is no statutory boiling time, as it varies depending on egg size, whether starting from cold water (to mitigate cracking), and so forth. Also, just a centimetre or so of boiling water is all that's needed.
�With spoon, transfer egg to egg cup and remove crown. If white is still underdone -- wait for it -- re-close the egg top and return egg (still in egg cup) to the pot.
�Further heat may not be necessary, letting simmer in pot with lid on is usually enough. Firmness may be monitored by lifting the lid and raising the egg top for a peek. Thus, perfection is assured.
I realise that for this contribution to the advancement of humankind the community will -- as per Richie McCaw -- wish to get up a bronze statue or two. I say, save the money and put it towards the eradication of battery hen horror.
When asked by an associate, though, how'd I'd like to be remembered, I suggested that being thought of as a "good egg" would suffice.
My associate deemed this sentiment entirely appropriate, especially given which part of the chook's anatomy the egg is dispensed from.