Poached egg rage

I woke up this morning super hungry and I realised I had nothing to eat. I decided I wanted to learn how to make poached eggs because I was honestly craving them. So as expected, I looked up a couple of recipes on the Internet.

A few minutes later, armed with all the kitchen utensils I can get my hands on, I began what I like to think of as the most frustrating culinary adventure of my life. I was going to make poached eggs, no matter how many 'chicken embryos' I had to sacrifice for the cause.

The people on the Internet told me that its easier to poach fresh eggs compared to the normal imported eggs we get around here. Well, thanks to the great chicken massacre that happened around here a few years ago, fresh eggs are almost unheard of.

This is what failure looks like.

Okay so I failed three times before I made something that was even remotely edible. It was frustrating watching everything fall apart every single time. And it did not help me to think about how much water or how many eggs I was wasting with every attempt. I almost wanted to give up, but I didn't want to until I had something to eat on my plate.

On the right, is the runny mess which I call my first attempt.

After the third try, I took some time to breathe, because by this point, my emotions were all over the place. I decided that I was going to muster all the patience within me and actually make something edible this time around. And so I did. I actually managed to make something that I could eat. WHOAA, right?

Well here it is. Well it does not look like the ones you get at restaurants, but at least it was edible.

It didn't look particularly good, but I was brimming with happiness because I finally managed to make something that I could at least eat. It was almost 1 PM now, and I had not eaten anything all day, so it was actually a really big deal. But first, I wanted to reheat the toast in the microwave for a little while. So I carefully placed the egg on a little plate on the dining table and turned my back on it to heat the toast.

When I turned around, my grandmother was standing by the table and well, she seemed happy. I looked down at the plate I had kept the egg on and VOILA! The egg was gone. I asked her if she had just eaten the egg I kept on the plate and of course, she did. Well, at least someone got to taste it. :)

So here I am, munching on some toast, just wondering what that egg I poached would have tasted like. Well it is certainly not the end of  the world. I could always try again some other time and hopefully make it look like the ones on those fancy cooking shows. There is always hope. YES, THERE IS.