This, I’m sure, will surprise no one. If it does then I’ll take it for granted that they’ve never read any of this before.
I’ve no idea how to boil an egg.
If you think back through the rain you’ll remember we had that steaming hot weekend way back when. And what better weather could there be to sit in a park drinking cold beer and eating homemade food? I’ll tell you what better weather: COLDER WEATHER. If you have ever run around a house blow-drying your hair while cooking frittata-thingy and then only when you are going out the door realise the heating is on on a 25°c day before having to stomp around Waitrose, carry 30 beers in and out of nearly every sodding shop in Twickenham looking for ice and then spend ten minutes shouting at people down the phone trying to track them down in a park you will understand.
But anyway what I am trying to say is that we had a picnic!!
The division of labour was decided in the pub and while Alex reeled off a long list of delicacies she was going to bring Ben and I plumped for said frittata and the boiled eggs Charlotte demanded someone make for her boyfriend Henry.
As the morning sun blazed down on Eel Pie Island we stood in Ben’s little kitchen wilting in the heat from the stove (and the bloody radiator) while I wondered how long it would take for me to drown if I jumped in the Thames to try and cool down. Peeling me off the window Ben managed to get my attention and started to talk me through the technical process of egg boiling.
How long does it take for a hard-boiled egg? “Six minutes? Not sure. I just wing it.” Hot. I love a man who lives on the edge.
One of the eggs cracked slightly when it was dropped in the pan but it turns out that is TOTALLY FINE! It just meant it was a funny shape. After six or seven minutes our eggs were done. And tasty! Apparently. I hate the things so really wouldn’t know.
Henry complimented Ben on the softness of the yolk. That’s good, right?
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