Delia says. .

Delia says. .

Soft-boiled eggs

Obviously, every single one of us has a personal preference as to precisely how we like our eggs cooked. Over the years I have found a method that is both simple and reliable, and the various timings set out here seem to accommodate all tastes. First of all have a small saucepan filled with enough simmering water to cover the eggs by about 1/2 inch (1 cm). Then quickly but gently lower the eggs into the water, one at a time, using a tablespoon. Now switch the timer on and give the eggs exactly 1 minute's simmering time. Then remove the pan from the heat, put a lid on it and set the timer again, giving the following timings:
6 minutes will produce a soft, fairly liquid yolk and a white that is just set but still quite wobbly.
7 minutes will produce a firmer, more creamy yolk with a white that is completely set.

I tried this today and found the seven minute preferable. I'd also add warm the eggs under the hot tap before you drop them in the water. There's still a chance the eggs will crack with the heat if you don't. Even if you don't keep your eggs in a fridge (which I don't).
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And here's me last month in Bratislava. What a glorious day that was! I had a good wander round this fascinating city. If I'm honest I liked it better than Budapest. It's a lot smaller and the main square is lovely. It's like something out of those Hans Christian Anderson things on the telly when you were a nipper. I went from cafe to cafe having beers, and I climbed right up on top of the hill and looked down at the old town, and the newer concrete town across the Danube. I had some traditional Slovak food, which was a bit strange. Like curds and whey I think.
I sat outside the opera house and just watched everyone walk past. That's so important. What's that poem that goes "we have no time to stop and stare"?
I love travelling, and I like to travel alone too. As long as I've got a book, my ipod and my camera, and pocketful of cash, and heart full of dreams (you get the idea. . ).
When I was in Ireland in 2004, I walked down Clonakilty high street. A slim fair haired girl caught my eye, and as she passed, we smiled at each other. I thought nothing more and I went into an Internet cafe, posted a post on an antiquarian message board and mooched around a bookshop. Then I went into De Barra's bar, a famous Irish pub. I ordered a Guinness. As I stood at the bar, the girl appeared. She stood right next to me, smiling, but looking straight ahead. And I mean right next to me, yet the bar was empty. I'm known for not noticing these things, but this was obvious even to me. She was waiting for me to talk to her.
She wore hippy clothes, she was younger than me, it's fair to say she was a free spirit, enjoying Ireland, like me, and up for adventure. I was obviously not a local, and like her, I was passing through.
I didn't talk to her, I sat down and she finished her half pint and left. But the whole unspoken experience left me happy. I was happy that I was there on my own, and adventures and chance meetings and new experiences were in my grasp. I'm not regretful that I didn't talk to her, but I'm happy that the option was there. Sometimes you don't have to act on a situation to be appreciative of it.