Every once in a while you have to throw caution to the wind and say to yourself, “I don’t care how ridiculous this is. I don’t care how fattening it might be. I don’t care if I know good and well I shouldn’t eat this. I want it and dammit, I’m going to eat it.”
Granted I say this more often than is probably healthy, it’s what first came to mind when I flipped to the food side of the menu at West Village bar Wilfie & Nell and read the description for a Scotch egg: a hard boiled egg wrapped in sage pork sausage, breaded and deep fried.
WOA! What in the name of all things fun, fried and fatty is this about? Who cares! I’ll take one! And why stop there, when there’s grilled cheese sandwiches on the pub grub list? Add one of those too, with Irish cheddar, please.
In my own defense, I was splitting this with the boyfriend, and we were with a group of friends who were all eating the same thing. One guy even ordered two meat pies. See, I’m not the only one with a healthy appetite.
When the waitress came back with baskets of Scotch eggs and several plates of grilled cheese sandwiches, meat pies and other bar fare, I was egg-cited. (Get it? Scotch egg? Egg- cited? Meh, never mind.)
I love eating things I’ve never had before, especially if they’re foreign or weird and unusual, and on top of that I love, love, looooove grilled cheese sandwiches. Here I was, about to get both!
The egg, which came cut in quarters and with a small side of thick, wholegrain mustard, was in a word, phenomenal. How something so small could pack so much loud, unique flavor is mind-boggling to me. A little smear of the mustard on each bite, and that egg was gone in a matter of minutes, perhaps even seconds.
The grilled cheese sandwich, which also came with a side of the thick, slightly spicy mustard, was great too. The cheddar, from Dublin, Ireland according to the menu, was a creamy white and not the school bus yellow most often associated with this cheese. The bread was toasted to a deep golden perfection and pressed just enough so that it wasn’t squished flat. It was hot without being scorching, just enough that it melted the cheese, making it ooze out in delicious gooey strings. Even the few pickle slices on the plate were tasty, and since they were just a little on the spicy side, Flaneur let me have them all. Win!
I had been to Wilfie & Nell before, but it was a super-packed weekend night and everyone I was with kept their consumption to the liquid variety. Actually, it was so busy that I never even saw a menu. I was just handed a beer without even knowing what this bar was capable of feeding me. But now that I know there’s a menu and what’s found opposite of the beers and the liquors, I might have to make this a regular spot. That Scotch egg just demands to be eaten more often, no matter how ridiculous it is.