An Orgy of Yolk is Always the Answer
An Orgy of Yolk is Always the Answer
Poached eggs in Prague
What my last meal would be changes depending on my mood, but at least one ingredient is always a must: eggs. Versatile, simple, rich: I find it impossible to understand how people can dislike nature’s perfect food.
When I sold everything to travel, I missed North American breakfast more than I could imagine. My rude awakening came in Croatia, where I made the horrific discovery that eggs for breakfast weren’t a thing. Thank goodness I found Bistroteka in Zagreb, which softened the blow with their eggs on toast. I’ve made it myself countless times since: toast topped with cream cheese, arugula, and a poached egg.
The hunt for new, exciting takes on breakfast is a great joy, especially when it’s successful. Every new city brings with it the critical Google search: “Best breakfast in __.” That’s how I discovered eggs in a glass. A dish common throughout the Czech Republic, Prague takes it up a notch. The concept is simple: three soft-poached eggs in a glass, topped with chives, served with bread or toast. But that simplicity is deceptive.
Prague’s La Bottega di Finestra is big on execution and detail. They transform this simple dish with sous vide 63-degree eggs—as the eggs slow-cooked in hot water are commonly known—dropped into a puddle of clarified butter and topped with a sprinkle of sea salt and clipped chives.
The first time I ordered it, my daily budget meant it was the only breakfast on the menu I could afford. When two slices of unbuttered toast and a glass with three eggs arrived in front of me, I smiled at the waiter and thanked him, but was secretly crushed. It looked so simple, so small, and somehow lacking.
But then I picked up that tiny silver teaspoon and poked the egg, delicately tearing the top yolk. Gold spilled out, mixing into the butter, flowing around the chives, filling gaps between the other eggs. How to do this, I wondered. Tear the bread apart and dip it? Scoop the egg and smear it on the bread? Break all the eggs? In the end, I decided the only answer was to have an orgy of yolk: after I broke the first egg, I broke the rest.
As I pushed the last piece of bread around with my spoon, sopping up the final drips of buttery yolk, I added a sprinkle of sea salt and chewed as slowly as I could. Then, I opened my eyes, sad-faced. So good, so gone. A diner opposite me smiled. “You want another right away, ja?”
Ja. Leaving Prague, I wasn’t sure what I’d miss more, the Charles Bridge or eggs in a glass. Now I know it’s definitely the eggs.