In the Kitchen with George Egg
George Egg has a clear ability to work outside the rules we’ve inherited about “proper” cooking. He treats the kitchen as a space for freedom and play, using everyday tools in unexpected ways. Known for bold combinations and comic timing, he backs up mischief with real flavour. We spoke to him about fearlessness, performance, snack hacking, and why cast iron is the one tool that can make rebellion feel elegant.
You’ve cooked mussels in a hotel sink. What would you say to someone who’s intimidated by the kitchen, especially if they feel they don’t have the right equipment? What’s the smallest, most forgiving way in?
All you need is your imagination, and your mouth. I guess a knife and a board and a frying pan are good too, but seriously you don’t need any more than that. Don’t adhere to convention, be that using the “correct” equipment, using the “correct” ingredients, or following the recipe. Trust your instinct, your palate and your ideas. If something says it should be baked and you like the idea of grilling or frying, then try that. If a recipe calls for a herb you’re less keen on, then try one you know you like instead.
Your cooking often sounds “wrong” until it suddenly makes sense, like Twiglets in a brownie. Where does that fearlessness come from? And how do you tell the difference between a genuinely good idea and a gimmick?
I think I’ve always had an anarchic urge. I just don’t like being told what to do and my instinct is always to rebel, even in the mildest way. Don’t know why. I think my mum was a bit of a rebel too so it probably comes from her. With all my ideas I’m really conscious of not doing them just for the sake of being different though. And it all comes down to experimenting and tasting.
With The Snack Hacker, you lean into the joy of the illicit treat. Why do you think snack hacking resonates so strongly, especially with grown-ups who are meant to be sensible?
I suppose simply because it genuinely is playful, and the ideas come from the heart. I think people can tell when things are meant, as opposed to when they’re generated for the sake of generating content. And, if I do say so myself, I think a lot of the ideas really are good ones that seem absurd in the first instance, but make total sense when you stand back and have a think.
You’re a performer as well as a cook. Do you recognise the same rhythm in both: building tension, timing, knowing when to turn up the heat?
Having always been a performer it’s difficult to know if it’s changed how I look at food and cooking, as there was never really a time when I was cooking and I wasn’t a performer, even going back to childhood, as even then I was doing magic shows and putting on plays with my brother. But yes I think you’re absolutely right about the similarities between the two with regard to timing, instinct, that word keeps coming up, haha. Good recipes are all about surprises and wrong-footing your audience in the same way that jokes are. And certainly cooking on film, or in front of a live audience is all about theatre, even if you’re just being observed rather than “performing” the cooking. Everything from the flourish of drizzling a dressing over a salad to cooking a slab of meat over naked flames.
Have you ever followed your instinct in the kitchen and it hasn’t worked, or surprised you in a useful way? What did you take from it?
I really can’t actually. I’ve been racking my brains and all I can think of are times when I’ve thought “lets add this to that and see what happens” and it’s been a success! So I suppose what I’ve learnt from that is to absolutely trust your instincts and that everything is worth trying.
If someone owns a cast iron skillet, what’s one simple snack hack that really shows what it can do?
Well one of my favourite recipes from my book involves taking (sacrilegiously) a microwaveable burger and turning it into something amazing. And for that you need a cast iron skillet. You invert the bun, butter the cut sides and sandwich the microwaved burger between the buns along with some interesting cheeses, mushrooms and mustard. Then put the whole thing in a skillet over a low heat and weigh it down. Like making a really good toastie. Everything compresses together, the cheese melts and spills out forming a crust, the cut sides of the bun toast up beautifully.
Cast iron becomes a companion over time. What’s your routine for cleaning and caring for it, especially after something sticky? What do people overcomplicate?
There seems to be a fear of washing cast iron, but it’s fine to clean it however you like, as long as you dry it and rub it with a very slightly oily cloth afterwards. If my Hornbeam is really sticky I’ll start by giving it a good scrape with a flat fish slice or spatula to get the lumps off, then get it under some running water and scrape again. Then dry it (either with a cloth or, more usually, over the heat of the cooker hob) and wipe it over with an oily rag I keep to hand.