My husband and I are required to undertake an annual ritual, commissioned by friends, which is both torturous and delicious. Before any strange ideas form, I am referring to the making of Scotch Eggs.
A Scotch Egg, for the uninitiated, is a particularly British invention of culinary oddity. It is a hard boiled egg, wrapped in sausage meat, bread crumbed and deep fried. If good quality ingredients are used, it is a pleasure to behold, if bad quality ingredients are used, it is disgusting. I am partly referring to the ubiquitous Scotch egg sold at service stations and gas stations in the UK. The sausage meat is the kind to remind you why sausages are bad; grisly and grey and the egg has been boiled to death, rubbery with a ring of green around the yolk. This is not Scotch egg nirvana and the reason why most people claim they do not like these delicacies.
