Getting in a pickle

This week we’ve been in a right pickle, do you see what I did there?

We’ve been pickling eggs. For many years every fish and chip shop that you went into had a huge jar of pickled eggs, they were very popular amongst my generation but they were not a 20th century invention. Eggs were being pickled by the Germans as far back as the 1700s.

Apparently pickled eggs were first sold in the UK in a pub called, quite aptly, The Pickled Egg, in London, they were very popular in pubs, although I don’t think that you’ll ever convince me that beer and eggs go together particularly well.

We had a lovely time pickling our eggs, the smell of the pickling liquid took us right back to our own kitchens, reminiscing about onions and walnuts, sitting in jars, all ready for the Boxing Day buffet. Boxing Day wouldn’t be Boxing Day without cold meat and pickles.

There is something very satisfying about pickling, preparing the liquid, stirring, peeling, boiling and then decanting into pretty jars ready for future events.

Our jars are now hidden away, nice and cool, the vinegar working its magic as I write. We’ll let you know how they turn out later in the year.

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