The Definitive Guide To London’s Best Egg Dishes
Scrambled, fried, whipped, poached, braised, served with pasta, on buns, and in batter—these are the ultimate London dishes for egg fans.
We begin this guide with the solemn promise that we will not make a single egg pun. The word ‘eggcellent’ will not be muttered on this most hallowed ground for we are about to divide the wheat from the chaff, the good from the bad, the yolk from the egg white, as we tell you which of this city's egg dishes are essential. Fried, boiled, served with a near-obnoxious amount of cheese, we would now like to introduce The Eggs.
Juliet’s Quality Foods
Scrambled eggs on sourdough
It is deeply tragic that every time we make scrambled eggs they look like something you’d scrape from the bottom of the Thames. But when Juliet's makes them they look like a cross between frosting and some kind of superior mousse that is responsible for the majestic volume of Timothée Chalamet’s hair. Gloriously smooth, whipped into shape with pumpkin seed dukkah, and served on wood-fired sourdough. This Tooting cafe is all about quality ingredients and the scrambled Cackleberry Farm eggs here are hands down the best in London.
It’s a shame ‘smothered in black truffle, babe’ never made it into the lyrics of How D’ya Like Your Eggs In The Morning but don’t let that hold you back from Hide’s croque madame. This is pure unadulterated egg indulgence courtesy of the Mayfair restaurant and it is, of course, ridiculous to spend £20 on an egged-up toastie. But look at that truffle, look at that yolk shining like the top of the Chrysler Building, look at yourself in the decadent bathroom mirror and say ‘I came for the eggs, I stayed for the truffle’. Worth it.
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Snack is the greatest word in the English language because it enables us to do glamorous things like eat a family bag of hummus chips, four Babybels, and some baby carrots and still claim we’re ‘starving’ when dinner rolls around. It is also now forever linked in our hearts, minds, and stomachs with this triple-decker breakfast offering from Dalston’s go-to neighbourhood cafe, Snackbar. A fluffy bun, house-made pork sausage, American cheese, and its crowning glory—a fried egg—the SnackMuffin is a must-order for our sunny side-up fans.
The word ‘confit’ appeals to that part of our brain that likes to casually browse Monaco real estate online. If you too like to dabble in the soul-destroying art of pretending you’re incredibly fancy, then we bring you Bancone’s silk handkerchiefs. Long thick sheets of al dente pasta, a deliriously rich walnut butter, and the ingredient that brings it all together, the confit egg yolk. Unlike that villa with 28 bathrooms in Monte Carlo, the signature dish at this Soho pasta bar will only set you back a humble £9.50. Frankly, a winning price for the opportunity to eat an egg and drink a negroni at the same time.
The Apple Blue
The dutch baby
Eggs are basically exceptional headwear. Before you crack a Burford Brown over your noggin and declare it fashion, please know that we are simply stating that it’s the base that truly sets one egg dish apart from another. And London, this huge pancake and Yorkshire pudding hybrid from Balham cafe The Apple Blue is the kind of OTT base layer we can truly get behind. The addition of fried chicken and maple syrup doesn’t hurt either.
As a society we simply must release eggs from breakfast exclusivity. They are a 24/7 treat and Hoppers, a Sri Lankan restaurant on Soho’s Frith Street, understands this. The egg hopper here allows for generous yolk dipping day or night. Combine with coconut chutney and pol sambol to keep things interesting. FYI you can also find Hoppers in King’s Cross and Marylebone (CC: all-day egg domination across London).
Poaching an egg is truly one of the worst tasks a person can ever undertake. Tears are shed, saucepans abandoned, and the phrase ‘actually, I just fancied scrambled anyway’ will be muttered. Leave it to the professionals at this grand, converted 1920s car showroom in Mayfair. At The Wolseley a classic is just that—classic. So don’t expect any funny business, just a soft English muffin, ham, poached eggs, and a spectacularly thick hollandaise that by our estimations must involve at least three sticks of melted butter. We love to see it.
Secret Sandwich Shop
Egg salad sandwich
If you have ever frequented the reduced section of Tesco circa 9pm, you’ll probably notice a sad little selection of egg and cress sandwiches covered in yellow stickers. The egg sandwich is often overlooked but not at this Japanese-influenced spot in Notting Hill. Its enormous egg salad sandwich is both a feat of engineering and a testament to the eye-watering effects of dijon mustard. The wedge of thick toasted bread holds that gooey egg yolk in check and the addition of Kewpie mayo is a fun touch.
A full english without a fried egg is a sad state of affairs. Alongside its juicy comrade, baked beans, eggs bring the moisture, the class, and the illusion of a healthy breakfast to what is—outside of Olivia Coleman and Henry the Hoover—our most sacred national creation. Nowhere in London does a better fry-up than this old-school east end caff, where the walls are covered in pictures of the EastEnders cast with Nev the owner, who will give you a telling off if you don’t finish your plate, egg whites and all. Truly a man after our own hearts.
Shakshuka never fails to result in a smile and a tomato stain down our shirts that we dutifully blame on not having had enough coffee. Let’s focus on the former and leave the latter to Vanish, shall we? A good morning medley of spices, onions, labneh, tomato, and—dun dun dun—braised eggs, the shakshuka at Ottolenghi is the stuff of London breakfast legend. A mini-chain of great little restaurants where vegetables reign supreme, there are a few Ottolenghis dotted around London but the Islington location is our favourite due to the impressive cake display in the window. Shakshuka and a Persian love cake, anyone?
The Cadogan Arms
Pork and sage scotch egg
All hail the scotch egg, may she reign over the Great British pub forever. Thanks to the sage in the pork filling and the supreme crunch factor of the batter, we have a particular soft spot for the scotch egg from The Cadogan Arms. A refurbished Chelsea pub with the gliding sophistication of a Julian Fellowes’ dame, this is the kind of place where you can escape the King’s Road and sit at the swish bar while nursing a pint and a couple of snacks. Turns out, eating an egg in a herby meat blanket beneath a chandelier is really quite the mood.