This is an egg, wrapped in ground pork, breaded, and deep-fried.
I love it. The name of the game is cholesterol and I am HERE TO WIN. There is not much seasoning, but it turns out that seasoning is not necessary: with enough pork fat and salt, there is plenty of flavor to go around. The egg is perfectly cooked, and the soft, yolky interior is the perfect vehicle for greasy ground meat. It’s a nice, hardy breakfast food that will get you up and moving in the morning.
And oddly enough, it is a weirdly perfect culinary synthesis of my journey over the past year: a Swedish meatball, breaded and fried like a Japanese pork katsu, and stuffed with an egg for that quintessential Scottish dish. If I was writing an Eat, Pray, Love-style memoir about my year of travel, I would have had to title it, The Year of the Scotch Egg. I can even imagine the pastel colors of the cover and the pithy anecdotes about how I’ve grown as a woman. Too bad I have not actually grown as a woman. I am actually sitting in bed on a Friday afternoon, eating a greasy fried meat egg out of its plastic wrap. So much for Oprah’s book club.