Soft Boiled Eggs
musings from a pro-egg household
In Hugh Corcoran’s Two Dozen Eggs, there’s a story about an old woman who wants boiled eggs for her birthday meal. She remembers being sent out to the chicken coop to collect eggs for breakfast as a child. Her father told her that eating an egg every morning would “put hairs on her chest,” and she thought that would be just fine.
I too grew up eating soft boiled eggs, and have an enduring, and shall we say recurring passion for them. When I was little—very little, my grandparents would take my sister and I to breakfast at Balthazar on Sunday mornings. This was back when they still opened at 7am for breakfast service. We were often the only people in the restaurant, and I remember the table we always sat at, to the left on the first banquet. My sister and I were charming and well-behaved little girls, much cooed at by the waitstaff.
Baba would order the eggs and soldiers, which I believe was an on-menu item at the time, but may not have been. She would request that our waiter bring out a bowl so that she could scoop my boiled eggs out of the shells, making it easier for me—probably about four years old at this time—to eat them. When we ate breakfast at home, she would do the same after boiling the eggs herself. She would tell me when the eggs went in, so I knew it would only be a few minutes, and then I would become impatient while waiting for the eggs to be cool enough for her to handle so that they could be scooped.
A warm soft boiled egg is a humble food, but the flavor—which is distinct from what you get with any other egg preparation—is rich. There are many ways to skin a cat, I mean boil an egg, but my current method is: eggs & one inch of water go into a small pot, bring the water up to a boil, turn down the heat and cover for three and a half minutes, remove eggs from pot and run briefly under cold water (just long enough to be able to touch them).
I’m an adult now, so I eat my eggs out of their shells, and own delightful egg cups (two pink ones, and two that look like camels) and two different tiny spoons for this express purpose. Toast soldiers (well-buttered) are an excellent but unnecessary accoutrement. This is the most chic breakfast imaginable. If you aren’t squeamish about eggs, which is obviously important when it comes to eating them soft boiled, I encourage you to to join me:
