Not so much.
Sure, I've poached an egg before. I love eating them over mixed greens dressed in olive oil, lemon juice, and parmesan cheese... maybe a shot of hot sauce or two. But Tuesday was a new challenge.
Our table was cooking for 8 that day and we also had cream puffs, a potato dish, and an hericot vert dish to complete. I was put in charge of poaching the eggs, and, knowing how delicate a poached egg could be, I opted to make an extra just in case. The objective was to poach them until the whites just set, keep them in an ice bath, and then finish cooking them in simmering water right before service.
Well, supplies were short that day and the only wide pan I could find was misshapen and lopsided, like it had withstood one too many fires in its lifetime. So of course when I filled it with water and placed it on the burner, it tilted to one side so half the pan was filled to the rim and the other half was a mere inch and a half deep. Great. I tried to maneuver the eggs so they were huddled together on the deeper end, but I still noticed some of the yolks in the middle were bobbing a bit above the surface and were not sufficiently covered by the whites. As a desperate solution, I spooned the hot water over the yolks until the whites settled into a thin veil over the top, which satisfied me enough to drop them into their ice bath and move on to my next objective: the Hollandaise sauce.
Our table was cooking for 8 that day and we also had cream puffs, a potato dish, and an hericot vert dish to complete. I was put in charge of poaching the eggs, and, knowing how delicate a poached egg could be, I opted to make an extra just in case. The objective was to poach them until the whites just set, keep them in an ice bath, and then finish cooking them in simmering water right before service.
Well, supplies were short that day and the only wide pan I could find was misshapen and lopsided, like it had withstood one too many fires in its lifetime. So of course when I filled it with water and placed it on the burner, it tilted to one side so half the pan was filled to the rim and the other half was a mere inch and a half deep. Great. I tried to maneuver the eggs so they were huddled together on the deeper end, but I still noticed some of the yolks in the middle were bobbing a bit above the surface and were not sufficiently covered by the whites. As a desperate solution, I spooned the hot water over the yolks until the whites settled into a thin veil over the top, which satisfied me enough to drop them into their ice bath and move on to my next objective: the Hollandaise sauce.
Hollandaise consists of egg yolks that are thickened over a double-boiler, emulsified with warm clarified butter, and seasoned with lemon juice and cayenne pepper. It is an extremely temperamental sauce and the emulsion can easily break if allowed to become too hot, too cold, too thick, or too thin. In some cases, with just the right amount of heat and moisture applied, it can be saved. Our goal that day was not just to make the sauce but to be able to hold it at the right state before serving time. I was satisfied with my first attempt and set it aside to finish the other dishes and set up our plating station.
Well, ten minutes before service I went to check on my Hollandaise and it had morphed into a thick paste. I had allowed it to get too cold. My other teammates weren't having much success with theirs, either, so I was determined to try and make mine work. I set it back over the double boiler in hopes that it would thin out once warm, then rushed to reheat the eggs.
At the poaching station, I placed the eggs back into simmering water, but when I went to pull them out, two of the yolks had burst open, leaving a golden trail of runny yolks and a mess of limp, sodden egg whites. The thin veil of whites over the yolks had been too thin after all... at least for my frantic, clumsy handling of them. At that point I was so thankful I made an extra and could settle it by placing the broken eggs on my own plate.
I rushed back to the station and just then remembered my Hollandaise sauce. Oh no! In my panic over the eggs I had forgotten to check on the sauce. Sure enough they had turned into scrambled eggs by that point and were beyond saving. With great remorse, I threw the mixture into the trash and had to break the news to my teammates.
We now had no successful Hollandaise. We went to work trying to repair one of theirs while guests (from the other class) were already being seated. To top it off, we had miscounted our hericot verts (French green beans), and only three pathetic beans made it to each plate.
I finished plating all the dishes except mine. But before attempting to scoop up the remains of the broken, dripping eggs, it came to my attention that one of our guests is a vegetarian. By then the other eggs had already been plated into gleaming works of art with the Canadian bacon wedged securely underneath.
And now I am faced with a dilemma. I could pull out the Canadian bacon (right in front of him) from one of the nicer plates, but that just seems too crass (plus I am not sure if he will eat food that's been touching meat). Or I could serve him this pathetic heap of eggs that I had hoped to serve myself. There was not really any time to think, so I scooped up the gooey mess and plopped it right on top of the English muffin. I was mortified when I finally handed him the plate and apologized profusely, but he was a very good sport about it and took it anyway. In hindsight, I probably should have just stripped one of the other plates of the Canadian bacon but who knows?
And thus ends my first battle with Eggs Benedict. It's easy to guess who the victor was that day. At least the cream puffs and potatoes turned out well. Still, I was very down after class on Tuesday, but things perked up by the end of the week. But I shall say more about that later as this post is already too long :)
oo,
Well, ten minutes before service I went to check on my Hollandaise and it had morphed into a thick paste. I had allowed it to get too cold. My other teammates weren't having much success with theirs, either, so I was determined to try and make mine work. I set it back over the double boiler in hopes that it would thin out once warm, then rushed to reheat the eggs.
At the poaching station, I placed the eggs back into simmering water, but when I went to pull them out, two of the yolks had burst open, leaving a golden trail of runny yolks and a mess of limp, sodden egg whites. The thin veil of whites over the yolks had been too thin after all... at least for my frantic, clumsy handling of them. At that point I was so thankful I made an extra and could settle it by placing the broken eggs on my own plate.
I rushed back to the station and just then remembered my Hollandaise sauce. Oh no! In my panic over the eggs I had forgotten to check on the sauce. Sure enough they had turned into scrambled eggs by that point and were beyond saving. With great remorse, I threw the mixture into the trash and had to break the news to my teammates.
We now had no successful Hollandaise. We went to work trying to repair one of theirs while guests (from the other class) were already being seated. To top it off, we had miscounted our hericot verts (French green beans), and only three pathetic beans made it to each plate.
I finished plating all the dishes except mine. But before attempting to scoop up the remains of the broken, dripping eggs, it came to my attention that one of our guests is a vegetarian. By then the other eggs had already been plated into gleaming works of art with the Canadian bacon wedged securely underneath.
And now I am faced with a dilemma. I could pull out the Canadian bacon (right in front of him) from one of the nicer plates, but that just seems too crass (plus I am not sure if he will eat food that's been touching meat). Or I could serve him this pathetic heap of eggs that I had hoped to serve myself. There was not really any time to think, so I scooped up the gooey mess and plopped it right on top of the English muffin. I was mortified when I finally handed him the plate and apologized profusely, but he was a very good sport about it and took it anyway. In hindsight, I probably should have just stripped one of the other plates of the Canadian bacon but who knows?
And thus ends my first battle with Eggs Benedict. It's easy to guess who the victor was that day. At least the cream puffs and potatoes turned out well. Still, I was very down after class on Tuesday, but things perked up by the end of the week. But I shall say more about that later as this post is already too long :)
oo,
I was depressed too!! I'm going to go buy like a pound or two of butter and practice this weekend lol
ReplyDeleteDennis
I think I would have done what you did... given him the messy eggs rather than removing the bacon.
ReplyDeleteAgreed! I know how vegetarians can be about their food touching meat. It just seems...wrong.
ReplyDeletethanks for agreeing with my split second decision! he was very nice and gracious about it and i'm sure he wouldn't have minded either way but it just seemed wrong to slip the meat out...
ReplyDelete