I have not seen the Barbie movie yet, but I have (somewhat unintentionally) made a Barbie Egg. It’s like a normal fried egg, except bright pink—almost magenta, really—with the slightly sweet, subtly sour, earthy flavor of pickled beets.
I don’t know that I would call it “pretty.” There’s something unsettling about the Barbie Egg. But it is surprisingly delicious. The egg didn’t taste outright pickled; the effect was subtler. Instead of a fried egg with a sour, pungent white, you get one that’s infused with a bit of tartness, a touch of earthy sweetness, and the various herbs and spices found in the pickling liquid. I was worried the vinegar in the brines would make the white rubbery, but I didn’t notice a difference in texture.
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You can fry an egg in any kind of brine
I didn’t stop with beet brine. I fried eggs in caper brine and classic dill pickle brine, both of which were delightful, and unlike the Barbie Egg, neither called for extra salt. The dill pickle egg was the most obvious win, with flavors I immediately clocked as “dill pickle,” but I love dill pickles so I was fine with it. The caper brine-fried egg was the most flavorful: briny, pungent, and gloriously salty. If I had to pick a favorite, it would be this one.
Again, the flavors aren’t aggressive; they linger on your tongue just long enough for you to go “Was that? Yes, that was an essence of pickle,” and then they’re gone (until the next bite). You are, of course, not limited to these brines. Pickled jalapeño brine would be fun, as would olive brine, which I was (sadly) out of.
How to fry an egg in brine (beet, pickle, olive, what have you)
Whichever brine you go with, the procedure is the same: Add a tablespoon of butter to a nonstick pan, add the egg, and cook until the white is almost set. Add a tablespoon of brine and swirl it around so it splashes over the white. Keep swirling for about a minute, until the white is set, and serve immediately, preferably as part of an exquisite, refined breakfast sandwich.