This little sea-kitten got caught in a net and died thrashing with dolphins ...

And bloody good riddance, if you ask me. Anything that goes around calling itself a "sea-kitten" deserves to die, preferably TWEPed. But anyway, I changed my mind, not going to talk about fish.

Actually, what I'm going to talk about is the last few Saturdays with Sophie. Last week I needed something quick so I went for steak Diane: today, now that spring is - reportedly - on the way I decided on eggs Benedict, which is also quick and decidedly brunchy. And just a bit decadent, with a glass or two of white.

Steak Diane is, I suspect, an American recipe - or if it's Frog, it dates from after 1940. (It's not in Pellaprat, nor in my Larousse, nor in "Jane's Big Book of All The World's Armoured Cars")  I'm not complaining, it's quick and easy and impressive, which pushes all my buttons. And as Sophie had asked epecially for something involving red meat (not something she usually runs after) it really did fit the bill.

Unfortunately it involves little or no alcohol (unless you really want to try flambé-ing it at the end - we'll get to that) but on the bright side, if you do decide to open a bottle anyway there'll be no wastage. So go ahead, open a bottle anyway.

When I say it's quick, I mean really quick - traditionally it's prepared at the table, and quite frankly most people are not prepared to wait for hours. Which is fair enough, they're paying for it after all. What I really mean is, get everything ready ahead of time, and don't count on drinking too much. So first of all I would organise the salad, get the bread sliced - if you want carbohydrates get some potatoes ready however you want them, but basically you start cooking the meat about 10 minutes before you're ready to sit up.

Start off with the two slices of fillet steak that you happen to have lying about. Sear them rapidly on each side in a good hot pan (can't beat cast iron) and then put them on a plate so that they can contemplate their apotheosis whilst you get everything else ready.

Which involves finely chopping a couple of shallots, and rehydrating some dried mushrooms - or chopping some button mushrooms if that's all you've got. Then the shallots go into the pan with some butter on a gentle heat so that they sweat - about five minutes should get them tender - then add the mushrooms and let them sweat a bit longer. If you're using fresh button mushrooms this may take a little while, as you want them to get rid of most of the water that makes up about 95% of their little bodies.

Once that's done, turn the heat down low and add a good 10cl of crême fraîche and let it melt: bring it to a simmer but don't let it boil unless you really want curdled crap. Then add as many chives as you want, a tsp of worcester sauce and another tsp of lemon juice and mix all that up, then plonk yer steaks back in, turning them once after a couple of minutes. The idea is to finish cooking them by poaching in the sauce, which'll result in lovely pink, unctuous meat.

Traditionally, you should flambé this with brandy or whisky - your choice. Normally you'd do this by flinging a shot-glass of the alcohol of your choice into the hot pan with the meat and setting fire to the alcohol as it boils off: unfortunately you can't do that here as the pan is full of low-temperature soggy sauce. So if you really insist, you'll need to put the alcohol in a small saucepan (I've got a really nice silver-tinned copper one that came with the house when we bought it) and bring it to the boil rather quickly, then light it and pour it, still flaming, over the meat. Be careful of your eyebrows and children, this is not something you want to try doing alone. Unless you really want to see the nice firemen at your house.

Eggs benedict are surprisingly nice, given that they're basically eggs on toast. Served with a good salad, or asparagus if it happens to be that time of year, with fresh goat's cheese on granary bread to follow, they make a lovely brunch. And luckily, you can get everything ready ahead of time and put it together at the last minute.

Basically, you need eggs, muffins, and bacon. Plus a bit of vinegar and lots of butter, but that's by the way. You may also need a bit of patience, if this is the first time you've poached an egg.

When I was little, we had an egg-poacher: a sort of plate with egg-sized indentations which went into a special pan with a lid: you'd fill the pan with water and get that simmering, then break an egg into each indentation, set the plate into the pan and stick the lid on and presto! five minutes later, perfect poached eggs (or, if you want to be technical, shirred eggs. Because they've been steamed on top, and get a mirrory appearance. Don't ask me, I didn't make the words up). No-one seems to do poached eggs anymore and the little pans are introuvable (sorry, can't be found - at least not around here) so I had to do them the old-fashioned way and discovered - rather to my surprise - that I still can do that.

All it involves is bringing a saucepan of water to a simmer (definitely not a full rolling boil), adding a slosh of vinegar (it's supposed to help coagulate the egg protein: given that you've got maybe a 1% solution of vinegar, which itself is only 4% acetic acid, I rather doubt it does any good, but I do it anyway - part of the ritual) and then stirring it with a spoon until you get a little whirlpool of hot excited water. Then you plop an egg (minus its shell, obviously) straight into the middle of the whirlpool - like that the white will wrap around the yolk rather than spreading out like some demented jellyfish. After three minutes it should be good - white firm, yolk still runny - so fish it out with a slotted spoon, set it on a plate, and do the next one. And so on until you've cooked as many as needed. I did four: there was Sophie and I (that makes two) and Lucas (who eats like any adolescent  ie enormously).

Then you just need to fry the bacon and make some bastard béarnaise, which I know I've told you about before but I'll repeat myself anyway: put an egg-yolk in a small saucepan along with a tbsp of good cider vinegar and the herbs of your choice (chives are always good) and put that on a low heat and whisk shit out of it. (Most books recommend doing this in a bain-marie, but I can't see the point in extra washing-up - just keep the temperature low or you will wind up with scrambled eggs.) When it starts to go frothy and thick it's time to take it off the heat and whisk in as much butter as you think it can handle - about 50gm should be right.

To assemble, stick yer buttered toasted muffins (no, I didn't forget them) on a serving dish with slabs of bacon on each and (delicately) slide a poached egg on top of the bacon. Then stick that into the oven for five minutes or so to warm it all up before serving, at which point you should slosh a spoonful of the bastard sauce over each one.

See? Easy.

Next time, I think - if you're good - it'll be filet de porc normand and maybe clafouti aux abricots, which is a favourite fall-back dessert around here and, quite honestly, delicious. No matter how much I make, there never seem to be leftovers. Strange, really.