My other half frequently praises that I am quite clever. This is an unusual case-in-point with which I had to agree. It involved canned quail eggs.
We have a wonderful international grocery store not far from our house. You can stroll and shop for hours. Often we spend hundreds of dollars only to return home with many exotic items we have no clue how to properly prepare and serve. My coveted quail eggs were a perfect example. I thought the little bites would be good on salads. Wrong. Straight out of the can they tasted overwhelmingly metallic. That’s not something I usually notice but this was nearly intolerable.
My only prior experience with the tiny eggs had been raw over flying fish roe in sushi restaurants. It’s quite delicious. Likewise, I’m sure the people who normally buy these petite gems boiled and packed in light brine know exactly what to do. No doubt the target shopper renders them into an extremely tasty treat.
What might the experienced aficionado add? Fish sauce, perhaps? Maybe the perfect infusion of Asian vegetables? Add rice for a great meal. But I’ve got good rice and no amount of tasty vegetables was going to save these. Perhaps some unfamiliar balance of spices would be key. Perhaps I should go to cooking school.
I don’t know. But, however bad tasting, this was food. And I’m notorious for hating to waste food. When it’s an animal product I’m especially radical. While I may never become totally vegetarian, I have standards.
In this situation, the solution was presented by my husband’s decision to pickle some regular store-bought chicken eggs. I figured that sounded pretty good, though he usually can’t leave them alone long enough for me. The eggs are gone before they reach that really dark and deliciously burgundy stage I crave. You know? When the combined sugars and vinegar soak all the way to the yolk, I’m there. Yum.
Then it occurred to me. Why not pickle the little quail eggs? So I got a tiny container and made the cutest pickled egg mix I’ve ever seen. And they tasted great! I’m tickled pink, no…
Beet red. Heh… Sorry.