in the past year i've gone through, oh, about five thousand million dozen eggs. i've poached them under my master poacher mother's supervision, baked them at midnight for a noshie eggboy, soft boiled some rainbow beauties that were fresh out of the hen, scrambled them as slowly as possible with the best most freshest chives available, and gone through many many kinds of fancy salt in all different colors. one would think i've made a good egg. 

but upon taking myself on a morning date to the hokkaido dairy farm milk restaurant, i realized the answer was, 20 years ago, right in front of my four-year-old-bowl-cut-self: fluffy white bread with the crusts cut off, hilarious amounts of butter, and milk. 3.6% fat milk, to be exact, says robyn.

hokkaido's egg sandwich is approximately one of the best things i've ever eaten. it's better than australia dairy company's version. it's better than the super bougie eggs i spend too much money on at the farmers' market.

it's sweet, fluffy, buttery, eggy yumminess sandwiched between two slices of the most pillowy soft white bread you ever did meet. it's large. large enough to feel bad about also ordering the peanut butter stuffed french toast (but not that bad, because, hey, when in honk honk?) and large enough that you need to use two hands and be extra careful that you don't make a mess, lest some valuable egg get away. 

eating a hokkaido egg sandwich is almost like eating a slice of new york pizza. the grease just runs down your arm and it is one happy moment. 


this post on hokkaido was brought to you by jet-lag. it's thanks to jet lag that i was able to be the first customer of the day and avoid the usual long line.

thank you, jet lag, i love you, jet lag.