The nice thing about Eggs Benedict, like every other old favorite, is that there’s always room for more creativity, more improvement, more… improvisation. Which is exactly why there are so many varieties now (Eggs Florentine, Eggs Hemingway, Eggs Provencal, Eggs Mornay, etc).
The Eggs Benedict at Milky and Sunny (P150) was different from what I’d gotten used to seeing. Much to my disappointment, there was only one little stack of eggs, bread, and ham sitting on my plate. Since the dish classically uses two halves of an English muffin, I’m used to seeing a dainty pair of treats waiting–anticipating–for me to devour them instead of this lone medium-sized pansy. A snack, not a meal.
Instead of drowning under a liberal dollop of Hollandaise, Milky and Sunny’s was happily floating on it. A single green spinach leaf lodged between the egg and ham as well as a sprinkling of paprika added bright hues much to my visual amusement.
Milky and Sunny’s adaptation is the lovechild of Benedict and Florentine. The eggs were a delight to slice open: plush and chubby with the yolks bursting to come out. The bread was firm enough to carry the weight without being too gummy, the yolks were thick enough to confirm that the eggs were not raw but runny enough to still be juicy. A dash of salt and pepper gives it the lift that it needs taste-wise.
Perfection. Photo by bufra! Follow him on Instagram @jason4others
With the hard parts nailed, I might as well to tell you now that Milky and Sunny’s Eggs Benedict is good. My main concern was the ham. Was the sheet of spinach supposed to make up for the teeny slice of pork hidden somewhere in there? Out of about 10 bites, I think only six had meat in them and some quite negligible. Truthfully the spinach doesn’t do anything to the flavor. The Hollandaise, conversely, was just the right touch of tangy, but the consistency felt like broth. Too thin, too weak, looks too much like lemonade (but with pulp, of course).
Related reading: Ms. Eggs Benedict 2012: Cafe 1771