Weeknight
Shickled eggs — soft, slow, buttery scrambled eggs
My grandmother's scrambled eggs, named for the shickle-shickle of the fork against her steel bowl. My forever comfort food.
I was a toddler when I named them. The sound the fork made as Gran whisked the eggs against the steel bowl was shickle-shickle-shickle — so shickled eggs they became. On Friday nights when there wasn't much to go round, she'd fry an egg or two for everyone else and quietly make me my shickled eggs. I think about her every single time I make them. It's the dish I reach for when I'm unwell — which, let's be honest, is most of the time — and it never stops tasting like being loved.
Method
- 01
Crack the eggs into a bowl. Whisk thoroughly with a fork — the shickle-shickle bit — until the yolks and whites are completely one colour. Do not season yet.
- 02
Put a small non-stick pan over a very low heat and melt the first knob of butter without letting it sizzle. Pour in the eggs.
- 03
Now the only rule that matters: low and slow. Stir gently and constantly with a silicone spatula, scraping the base and folding the curds in on themselves. No rush.
- 04
Just before they look done — while they are still glossy, soft, and a little wet — pull the pan off the heat. They will keep cooking in the residual heat. This is the Jamie Oliver lesson.
- 05
Off the heat, stir in the crème fraîche and the second knob of cold butter — the Bobby Flay finish. The cold fat stops the cooking and makes the curds silky.
- 06
Season with sea salt and pepper, pile onto hot buttered sourdough, and eat immediately. Think of your grandmother.
Keep cooking
