when you poach an egg it is imperative to have a

clear vinegar mixed at a ratio of 1:20 with water as the

vinegar helps to hold the albumen together, ensuring

the egg stays in shape and the yolk remains soft while

the whites cook evenly. if the proportions are correct,

the air should sting slightly, catch the back of the throat

in the manner of a good weepy, something fragile.

at this stage of the process some people like to swirl

the water with a spoon or another suitable implement

to create a vortex in the pan, a raging storm into which

can be cracked the mucus like jewel, released from its

prison of semi-permeable calcium carbonate mesh,

but this is not needed.  if the egg is dropped from the

correct height with the confidence of youth it will plunge

into the gently simmering  water, creating a tear drop of

whites which, when combined with the acidity of the vinegar,

will ensure a perfectly shaped, perfectly cooked  egg.

the moment of puncture is the paragon of both barbarism

and majesty.  when the tines of the silver fork slide into the

sunshine yolk, releasing the earthy, golden emulsion,

free now to coat the tongue, slide down the throat,

treasure unearthed, primal urges sated again.