Tremendous Eggs Florentine

Folks. Eggs Florentine. We are doing eggs Florentine, and right up front I have to set the record straight — eggs Florentine is the SOPHISTICATED cousin of eggs Benedict. Eggs Benedict gets the press. Eggs Benedict is in every brunch menu in big bold letters, eggs Benedict is the loud guy at the party telling stories nobody asked for. Eggs Florentine? Eggs Florentine is the one quietly running the place from a corner booth. The spinach is doing WORK. The spinach is the unsung hero of brunch. Nobody disputes this.

Now let me tell you about hollandaise. In the wrong hands, hollandaise is a disaster. People are scared of it. They've heard the stories — the broken sauce, the curdled mess, the great-aunt who tried it once on Easter in 1987 and has not spoken of it since — and they panic. They reach for the JARRED HOLLANDAISE. No. No, no, no. There is no such thing as good jarred hollandaise. It is a yellow betrayal in a glass. It tastes like a scented candle. If you've used jarred hollandaise I'm not angry, I'm disappointed, and you will never do it again. The good news, and this is BIG news, is that hollandaise made in a blender is foolproof. Foolproof! You press a button. The machine does the work. It's the greatest kitchen hack of the last hundred years and the food media won't tell you about it because they're too busy stacking newsletter popups and cookie banners on every page of their site asking if you want to receive 47 different categories of marketing email about 'mindful eating,' which by the way is INSANE — eating is eating, the cavemen did not need a newsletter, they just ate the food.

This Florentine — no popup, no email capture, no banner begging to send you browser notifications, the most invasive question ever invented and who in history has said yes to that — has wilted spinach with garlic and a pinch of nutmeg, a perfect poached egg, blender hollandaise, all stacked on a toasted English muffin. The yolk runs into the hollandaise, the hollandaise melts into the spinach, the spinach hugs the muffin, and the whole thing becomes one unified breakfast. Harmony. Real harmony. The kind musicians try to make and usually fail. Believe me.

Set this plate down in front of somebody on a Sunday morning and watch their face change. The face change is the whole reason we cook. They cut into the egg, the yolk runs into the hollandaise, the hollandaise melts into the spinach, the spinach hugs the English muffin, and they take a bite and they look at you like you've just done magic. You haven't done magic. You've done geometry. Breakfast geometry. And nobody, NOBODY, does breakfast geometry like Bigly. Beautiful.