I realised two goals today. One ridiculous, and the other, an old time fantasy. I will start with the first: I've never really known how to boil and egg. It's embarrassing but true. I suppose I always rely on the internet or Delia, so have never cemented the process in my mind. Faced with 40 eggs to boil this morning for a catering job, I knew that my ignorant days were up. And by now, looking at my mountain of egg mayonnaise, I have truely mastered the art. It's not hard either. Here is a food proof method:
Place as many eggs as you like in a pan. Nearly cover entirely with water. Place the egg pan on a high heat and bring it to the boil. Time 3 minutes. Then immediately turn the heat off and fit a lid for 8 minutes. Then place the eggs under a running tap. Keep them covered with cold water until you want to peel. The shell will come away easily and no shredded edges will be in sight.
The second achievement of the day is less culinary, but may lead to some cooking. There is a derelict site in Brixton which has long been a fantasy of my imagination. Brady's is a pub with a beautiful clock tower covered in graffiti and tumbling with weeds, best seen from the train station. I have adored it on countless worse-for-wear mornings in bright sunlight. It must be my inner Marianne Faithful. Word on the street is that Jimmi Hendrix played his first gig here, and in the 80's it was a squat pub and there are still people in the neighbourhood with happy hazy memories of this hub. Stepping back in time and walking around the falling down bar and up the stairs to the mentally falling down rooms was an absolute delight. Hopefully some day soon everyone will be able to see this amazing old hang-out. And if I'm lucky I might get to do some cooking here.