Kiwis lay the best eggs and my pompous sauce syndrome

Halo Cafe, Queenstown, South Island, New Zealand, May 2009

Every egg we had in New Zealand had a yolk like this – glaringly orange and nearly waxy in its richness.  All I did to the picture above was press the shutter button, after which I put the camera away and ate with all the grace of a happy frog who’d snagged a big, juicy bug.  I did have one teensy little problem with them though.

One night up in Marlborough we stayed in a motor lodge that had kitchens in each room.  And one morning I decided to hit the local grocer, snag eggs, and make us some benedict.  I figured the sauce would be a bit technicolor but if it tasted anything like the yolks we’d had, we’d be golden.

Was it the persnickety stove top?  Was it the butter?  I have made so many batches of hollandaise over my lifetime that I figured I was safe.  I had pompous sauce syndrome.  I tried TWICE to make it in NZ.  And I watched the pot like a hawk the second time.  The sauce done broke.  Both times.  And almost instantly.  Rather than waste another set of eggs, I decided to cut my losses and settle for less-than-benedict.

I blamed those tasty tasty yolks.  Though everyone else in the country seemed to be able to make hollandaise JUST fine.  In fact, delightfully fine.  We had some variation of it nearly every morning.  But oh, those yummy, crazy Kiwi eggs.

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