Scotch Egg

Dinner had to be quick, so Scotch Egg looked like a promise I could actually keep.

As it warmed, the kitchen smelled like toasted oats and maple hanging in the air. I kept a tasting spoon on the counter and adjusted salt twice.

A small pinch of flaky salt at the end made the flavors feel deliberate, not accidental.

Cleanup stayed sane; I rinsed two bowls and called it progress.

A spill happened, of course, but parchment took the hit, not my pan.

First bites landed as familiar comfort; the kind that quiet a table for a minute.

I’d serve it with a quick salad and cut fruit—weeknight energy.

I wrapped portions in foil for after practice; nobody complained.

Next time I’d finish with lemon or a spoon of vinegar; brightness is the difference between fine and good.

People hunting scotch egg recipe will appreciate that this doesn’t pretend to be fancy to taste good.

Fast doesn’t always mean great; tonight it was fast—and perfectly fine.