A Sad Story About a Poached Egg
Don't let it happen to you.
It took a bad pan to teach me why so many people think they can’t cook.
Many years ago, I was staying in an Airbnb in Joshua Tree, California, while reporting a story on Alison Carroll from Wonder Valley for Bon Appétit. After landing in Palm Springs, I went grocery shopping so that I could make my own breakfast and drink black tea in the rental before heading over to the location. You know, alone time.
The house I was staying at was super cute and beautifully designed. Whoever lived there had style. There was vintage midcentury modern furniture all over the place and lots of great art on the walls. Huge king sized bed and an enormous tub. Patio where I saw lots of jackrabbits hopping all around.
It had an eat-in kitchen with a table set right into a window nook where you could see all the pretty desert bloom. Nothing was in bloom when I was there, but if it were, you would definitely be able to see it from that window.
All that, and it had absolutely terrible kitchen equipment. Flimsy pans with rubber handles and even worse knives. Super-scratched up nonstick skillets. Tiny, rutted cutting boards and all-silicone spatulas and spoons that were weirdly oversized
But: whatever! I was only going to be making toast and eggs for one with some fruit in the morning. I know my way around an egg. I could handle it.
Day One: I try to poach an egg in one of the little saucepans. It has a ribbed concentric pattern on the bottom, which confuses me, but still, poaching seems foolproof.
I drop egg into simmering water. It immediately sinks and within moments has adhered itself to all those little ridges. Will not release. How is it sticking to WATER?? I had to scrape it off, and it broke, of course, and I ended up with half-cooked boiled egg parts. And a cup of tea.
In that moment I realized that no amount of recipe writing or video demonstration or how-to photos could save a person who is using faulty equipment. If I were a beginner cook just trying to follow directions when poaching that egg, I would have thought I made a mistake. I would have lost confidence. I would have decided that poaching eggs is hard and tricky. But in reality, it was the pan's fault, and I only knew that because I had experienced the alternatives.
You cannot become a great cook using bad equipment. Having the right pieces and knowing they are quality-made is everything. I was fortunate enough to be gifted a set of cookware by my parents when I graduated from college. They were anodized aluminum, a choice I wouldn’t make now, but aluminum is an excellent heat conductor and these were well-constructed and durable.
Everything I needed was in that box: a tall pot, a 10-inch skillet, a medium saucepan with a lid, and a small saucepan with a lid. Those pans were packed up and moved into several apartments during my 20s. Before I went to culinary school, and cooked purely because I loved it, I did it all in those pots and pans. I had cookbooks and my mom’s recipes, and most things turned out pretty good. I wasn’t a great cook, but there was nothing I could blame on those pans.
Over the years, I traded out the small saucepan for a tri-ply stainless one we got for our wedding registry, and I am pretty sure I put the skillet and midsized pot in a box in the basement when I was gifted newer, fancier, stainless versions.
The tall pasta pot, though, I cook with to this day. It has a couple of nicks on the top rim and—that’s it. It’s perfect. Every bowl of pasta my children have eaten at home have come out of that freakin' pot. That's a lot of pasta, people. At the risk of dating myself1, this pot is ALMOST THIRTY YEARS OLD HELLO.
When my older child—who is already cooking for his friends—graduates from college, I sort of hope he moves back home with us (is that weird?). But if he doesn’t, I know what to give him.
LOL as if you can’t Google my birth year.