As you can tell from the headline, I am deep in the process of procrastinating. While my real job calls for thousands of words about dining, I am convinced it is far more important that I drop what I am supposed to be doing and answer a question sent to me by PR boy toy Jef Tingley. Yes, he spells his name with one “f,” but I will save that analysis for a later procrastination post.
“Jef with one f” asked me how to boil an egg. Don’t laugh. How many times have you had tiny shards of shell pierce the delicate skin beneath your fingernail? I shared my secret with “Jef with one f” by private message on Facebook which made several people curious enough to email and ask (BEG!) for my secret.
You are going to have to jump hard.
How is it that I hold the key to the secret method of boiling an egg? My first job in a kitchen called for me to make 300 deviled eggs every morning for 2 years. Do the freaking math. I have peeled a ****load of eggs in my day. Okay, don’t say I never gave you anything. I’m opening a vein and spilling it now:
Place ROOM TEMPERAURE eggs in lukewarm tap water. Add (a lot) of iodized salt. Bring the water to a boil slowly and allow it to “soft rumble™” (MINE!) for 3 minutes. Turn off the heat. If you are cooking on electric heat soft rumble for 2 minutes and leave the pan on the element. NOW, and this is critical: how fast they are ready will depend on how many eggs are in the water. If you have a couple dozen, leave them in the water until it is cool. Otherwise, usually 20 minutes will do. BEFORE you proceed to the next step, fish one of the eggs from the water, dry it off, and spin it. YES, SPIN IT on the counter. If it wobbles around like Stephen Doyle at 2AM, it isn’t done. If it twirls around fast and steady like Leslie Brenner when she lived in LA, it’s ready to peel. Pour out the water, NOT THE EGGS YOU NINNY, and refill the pan with cool water. Peel the eggs while they are submerged in water. Sometimes I toss a little ice in there if I find a difficult egg. If your eggs crack while cooking, like me on deadline, you’re totally screwed. Repeat the above process.
Your nubby little fingers can now type me a thank you note.
Now, back to my regularly scheduled work load.