After a snap poll of Standard Issue staffers, we came to the conclusion that everyone has a signature dish they’re willing to brag about. Susan Hanks is a case in point, when it comes to eggs.
I Make the Best… Eggs.
Fuller dish description: Aside from a Cadbury’s Creme one served with a huge mug of tea, I pride myself in versatility when it comes to our yolky friends.
When did you first make it?
I think I had a few mishaps with under/overcooking episodes when I left home for university. A staple ingredient of any student diet, I learned and I learned fast to boil these bad boys to be ‘runny enough’ to dip a toasty soldier when you’re missing home.
When did you realise it was the best? (and who has certified it as such?)
I strongly believe that every weekend should contain mates with bacon and/or sausage for breakfast. I love to knock up a full English for guests and always receive positive feedback.
And if I ask, “How do you like your eggs in the morning?” and you don’t respond with the comedy line “unfertilised” then I know that it’ll be your final visit.
How often do you make it?
My parents live in the countryside and are often given eggs from a farming neighbour. Brilliant. They are so fresh; the yolks are orange, the shells have feathers and faeces attached and the occasional ‘ripple’ in their form. I dread to think what the poor hens went through during those births.
I have eggs every week. Often for brekky, sometimes for lunch and a favourite tea of mine is the fried variety with chips. On different days, of course; don’t want to be egg bound.
Have you ever tasted anyone else’s version of this, which had you worried?
I can be quite direct when it comes to food requests. Don’t give me weak tea (I’d rather drink your washing up water); please don’t offer me cake (it’s a rhetorical question, I always want cake); and probably best to give me a napkin/bib if you cook me an egg because it’s got to be runny.
Surprising that I’m still a fan after the egg-based abuse I faced one summer. Driving through Salford, I passed a gang of ‘youths’ (I’m old enough to be able to say that now) who hurled at least four of my fave foods at my car before running scared. Chickens.
“I learned fast to boil these bad boys to be ‘runny enough’ to dip a toasty soldier when you’re missing home.”
Minutes later I arrived home. I unloaded my shopping which took ages and several trips up and down stairs to a third floor flat. I hadn’t the energy to clean my car (and probably didn’t fancy eggs for tea that night if I remember correctly). On returning to my Fiat the following afternoon, I was furious and simultaneously amused to find what can only be described as an omelette, bubbling away nicely on my windscreen. Scraping it off was less than fun, and no, I didn’t plate it up for lunch. I don’t like them plain.
Are eggs the only thing you make well?
I have recently got into a bit of baking, I experiment with curry (and drown out the taste with lashings of lager if it’s a disaster) and I do a fantastic fish finger sandwich. But when all else fails, I poach my eggs to ensure a clucking good time.
Eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, mushrooms, toast, mates, hangover.
Cook it quickly before your guests get hunger rage and hope that they offer to wash up while you piece together eggs-actly what happened in the pub last night.
Serve on a bed of… wait, serve in bed. Budge up and pass the butter and don’t you dare forget the ketchup.1897 Views
Presenter on Moorlands Radio 103.7FM Drive Time, weekdays 4-7pm. Join Susan in 'shaking what ya mamma gave ya' for the daily Derriere Dance. Rhythm/leotard not essential.