The Epicure Ate Egg
I’m sure at some point most of us have experienced some sort of culinary epiphany; salt and vinegar crisps and a mouthful of milky chocolate or maybe something more savoury? Super Noodles tucked into a slice of bread, for instance. For Ben Holden a pickled egg, a nibble of black pudding and a handful of Seabrook’s paved the way for a much more gourmet delight; the reanimation of the Fortnum and Mason Scotch Egg.
Epicureans delight! Behold! The Manchester Egg!
Best served with Manchester Relish (a blend of Vimto and onion that is still in development) it’s the new bar snack that’s on everyone’s lips. In Ben’s words “A glorious egg-shaped legacy for Manchester “
Up until now whenever I’ve seen a jar of pickled eggs settled on the bar, eyeing me up and bobbing around like polished brains in formaldehyde, I balk at the idea of ordering one but there’s something strangely appealing now that the pointed zing
of the egg lies tucked into a rich blood sausage shell and coated in crispy breadcrumbs.
Conceived in The Castle, Oldham Street, there has been steady demand for the delicacies, demand great enough that Ben has trained staff at The Soup Kitchen on Spear Street to recreate his recipe. Heralded by some as “the perfect pub snack”; tasty and filling, could this hybrid of an egg move on up the ranks from humble bar snack to a fine dining experience?
Who knows but so far I’ve yet to hear a bad word said of the creation, quite honestly I’ve yet to hear a mediocre word. Thumbs, the town over, are whole heartedly pointing upwards.
A lovely robust snack could have no better birth place than The Castle, a gregarious haunt that looks exactly the kind of place in which you would while away the hours debating meat whilst eating slippery things from jars. This is a good thing. The Manchester Egg, I assure you, is a great thing.
Over the years our other local ‘delicacies’ have not always been the subject of such rave reviews. Sure, Eccles Cakes and Lancashire Hot Pot, they’ve done well, they’re stood the test of time but what about the Rossendale Sad Cakes, sometimes knows as Desolate Cakes? My heart breaks a little just knowing there’s such a thing. How about Rag Pie? Rag Pie, this decidedly limp but meaty treat, doesn’t fare so well as George Augustus Sala, a rather great Victorian journalist (and interestingly the author of a very rare pornographic novel – yes, a rag mag), told the world in 1859…
“There was a dreadful pie for dinner every Monday; a meat pie with … horrible lumps of gristle inside, and such strings of sinew, alternated by lumps of flabby fat. We called it kitten pie—resurrection pie—rag pie—dead man’s pie. We cursed it by night, we cursed it by day: we wouldn’t stand it, we said; we would write to our friends; we would go to sea.”
Oh dear, thumbs down on the Kitten Pie then?
Find more information on Mr Holden’s Manchester Egg at http://manchesteregg.com/
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