As regular readers will know, we're keen on craft stuff here at TWR and worship at the alter of ex jailbird Martha Stewart's home idea-stuffed website. So much so that we have named our Martha Moments feature after her. Admittedly some of these get a bit stuck in a 50s sterotype housewife mode, but nothing ventured nothing gained and at TWR we're game to try all sorts of weird stuff in the name of domestic one-upmanship .
However, jelly eggs might have been a step too far.
I read about these in a weekend supplement recently and though that producing jewel coloured glistening jelly eggs at Easter breakfast for teenage sons (instead of boring old bought chocolate eggs) would be fun, something that would reinforce my position as supremely talented and craft-clever mother. Teenagesons all love jelly so this, surely, was a shoe-in, right?
Firstly, I had to remove the egg from 6 shells, leaving them as intact as possible (and mentally think of what I was going to make from the eggs so as not to feel wretched about the waste). This actually resulted in 12 eggs being cracked in order to get 6 that were more-or-less the right shape. Which is a lot of scrambled egg.
I made the jelly, but not quite firmly enough, I should have used half the amount of liqued to improve the strength, but no mention of this in the recipe. I filled the eggs and chilled them. Quite a bit of the jelly mix seems to soak through the egg into the egg box. A day later I peeled one, thinking that a gem like dome would emerge from the shell, hmmm, instead I got a blobby, wobbly very pot-holed eggy shape that clung to bits of skin and membrane,
I tipped a couple into egg cups. Middleteenageson came to investigate. 'What's that mum?' he says, pointing at the unstable and fast deteriorating globe of gelatin. I tell him it's a jelly egg and he, recognising the slight tension in the air from a project not quite going to plan, wisely chooses his next words carefully. 'Interesting, why?' I can not at this point remember why, so tell him it's an experiment. 'Can I eat it?' he says. to which I nod and he tips the entire contents of an egg cup into his mouth in one go and walks off.
Middleagedad, meanwhile, has been quietly reading the papers while I have been huffing, peeling and blaming the recipe. He nudges the plate of remaining jelly shapes so they wobble, 'I'm finding them quite erotic' he says, putting down the papers and looking at me hopefully. I think next year we'll stick to chocolate.
Happy Easter all.
