Eggs Benedict





Eggs Benedict existed as a mythical dish for me many years before I knew what it was, thanks to the A-Team annual I had as a child, which contained this fact (scroll down, and you'll also discover the cure for 1974).
Contrary to popular belief, this dish was not invented by the current Pope before he turned his hand to Poping. Nor was it the brainchild of the man who introduced hip hop (but not bling bling hip hop) to South Wales, though he is fond of consuming it. You can find some boring blah on Wikipedia, but why bother? Eggs Benedict is a joy that needs no explanation.
Despite the poor photo, this is my best attempt yet at Hollandaise, thanks to Nigel Slater's recipe. Though I defy you to blend in the full 200g of butter, cold water or no. The cold water trick is great, if you're willing to keep beating beyond the point of what you think is no return. As it were.
The muffins were, as yesterday, shop bought. The eggs were hastily poached, and slightly overdone.
But it was a joyous feast.

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