Not all Easter eggs are made of chocolate. Hugo Arnold celebrates the real deal
My memories of childhood Easters are linked indelibly with my grandmother's house in Sligo. She didn't mess about with a daffodil here or there, she had hundreds of them, great swathes running down to sun-dappled Sligo bay. At least, I always remember it as sun-dappled.
On Easter Sunday, our first eggs were not chocolate ones, but the real thing: deep-yellow yolked specimens that arrived still warm from the hens up in the yard, and my mother would paint faces on the shells.
I'm afraid the sea of over-sugared chocolate gets the better of me at Easter. So I stick instead to daffodils and eggs, in honour of my late grandmother.
And there is nothing quite like a real egg. I'm as keen on bacon and eggs as the next person, but conditioned as I am to making tomorrow somehow different, I am cooking the bacon and then adding it, along with eggs, tomatoes, mushrooms and beans, to shallow terracotta bowls to be baked off in the oven when people come down for breakfast.
Or for tomorrow's holiday breakfast, you might consider smoked haddock, eggs and a grating of Gabriel cheese for a play on omelette Arnold Bennett (so out of date it is coming back into fashion). This king of the sea becomes silky soft when poached. My favourite way to serve it is with baby spinach and croutons.
Some of these dishes may sound more like lunch than breakfast. For those who still stick to traditional meal times, lunch can also celebrate the egg to stunning effect. Try breaking a soft poached egg into a salad of bacon, lentils, mixed leaves and croutons and you have something delicious. Or add crispy bacon and chopped hard-boiled eggs to braised leeks, frisee and balsamic dressing for rustic dining of the best kind.
When buying eggs, take care, for there is a world of difference between an undeclared specimen and something from a small flock of birds. Many shoppers take comfort in the free-range label, but this is not really worth shouting about. You wouldn't if you were a hen, at any rate. Look out for something organic, or a small producer who is open about what and where they produce.
Deep yellow yolks are attractive, but what really gives the game away is the egg's viscosity. You need the white to be adhering to the yolk with full force and vigour. Anything floppy is unlikely to make good eating. Poach a good egg and you'll see just what I mean. The egg comes out all pert and spherical, just waiting for a fork to release its inner charm.