Molly Yeh from my name is yeh, step by step, to Scotch egg heaven.
Until very recently, Scotch eggs were like unicorns. Even though I hadn’t met a Scotch egg, I knew I was in love. Like a colorful, prancing, song-singing unicorn, there is objectively nothing not to love about a Scotch egg. Eggie, meaty, fried. Done. Get me one. Get me seven.
So starting smack in the center of the Harrods Food Hall last summer, I began my Scotch egg tour of the universe. It took me to a perfect little pub in the perfect little countryside town of Lewes, East Sussex, where my friend Sam explained that a freshly boiled egg must be placed in an ice bath prior to its Scotching. It took me to Boston where a wonderful restaurant, Myers + Chang, blew my mind with the idea of wrapping the egg in potsticker filling. It took me to my new home in rural North Dakota where I am suddenly forced to make most of my favorite foods from scratch.