Would You Pay £36 for Scrambled Eggs? I Did.

The viral dish from London restaurant Hide came with truffle and an air of superiority.
Expensive scrambled eggs with black truffles at Hide, London, U
£36 scrambled eggs and a £28 Costa Rican coffee, plus the bill. Photo: Nick Thompson

I’m on the overground feeling the effects of the night before. What happens when you drink two bottles of orange wine (or any wine, really) is the next day you're just totally dry – horrid mouth, horrid throat. I feel like a raisin, inside and out. My vape throat (or actual illness, it isn't clear what’s happening in there) just isn't getting better, to the point where I should perhaps admit that it never will unless I quit. I'm on my way to get a ludicrously expensive plate of scrambled eggs at Hide restaurant in Mayfair, London.


Hide has recently hit the news thanks to sensational articles with headlines like “Diners’ fury as posh London restaurant sells scrambled eggs on toast for £58”. At Hide, they’re either out of the £58 white truffle dish, or they’ve wisely taken it off the menu. They do, however, have black truffle with scrambled egg, which will set me back £36. That’s the cost of ten bacon and egg McMuffins. So: Is this viral breakfast item even worth it?

Outside the restaurant, the first person I make eye contact with through the massive street-level window has had work done. Those Daffy Duck lips are a signifier of wealth, aren't they, on certain people anyway. The next thing I do is hit someone with the heavy (possibly oak?) door as I walk in – she was stood directly behind it. I apologise and she doesn't acknowledge me and I am reminded of the duality of London: how you can have a totally random uplifting experience, and then a disconcerting one in the same morning. Paul Simon’s Diamonds on the Soles Of Her Shoes plays on the speakers. 

I’d describe Hide’s decor as “high-end” and “international” and “woodworker’s delight”. The female maître d walks me to my seat, moves the table to let me sit, gestures for me to sit, and then closes the table around me like a steel lung. To get up you have to physically move the table. I order the £36 scrambled eggs and a £28 Costa Rican coffee. 


I feel like a fraud in that I'd never be here on a Monday morning if it wasn’t for this one weird journalistic trick. Also, I'm bad at surreptitiously filming – I don't like being a dick. I also feel like a boomer filming everything in such an overt, extended way (phone held high above the table; 10-second videos!). The people here must be in a totally separate stratosphere to me financially. I try not to overthink it.

The ambiance is nice, actually, very calming with the music piped in. My latte comes and there is a lovely possible flower impression in the foam. It tastes like a strong latte, and I'm sure it's good, but it’s near impossible for me to say if it’s worth £28, seeing as that’s such an obscene price surely no coffee is worth. 

I'm polite with the wait staff to make it clear that I'm a good person and not so used to exorbitant wealth that it's corrupted my humanity. When the eggs arrive, they’re actually delicious on their own – but then the truffle is a very sexy, complicating touch. The bread is soft, almost cake-like. It's all very tasty. And now I am torn – I want this life now, actually. I want it very much! This was always the risk. And look, the truffles obviously elevate the dish, and maybe it's not that bad at £36? Perhaps the eggs are expensive because the rent is expensive, plus the place is Michelin-starred. Truffles, also, are notoriously pricey. Still though, £36!


I must admit that I am here for a secret third thing, which is that I am obsessed with making the perfect scrambled eggs. These eggs are the elite runny consistency and deep yellow, which pleases my obsession. No salt or pepper or condiments on the table, nor are they offered, which implies the dish is perfect as is, which… fair. 

I’m hoping people think I'm stopping to film because I am an influencer and therefore have some kind of inscrutable TikTok wealth. The Asian woman next to me seems interested in what I'm up to – she and her partner are discussing dress codes, doing that thing where they slip between their shared language and English, and for a moment I wig out that they're questioning my outfit. 

The bill, which is obviously insane, comes to £80.50 for the bottled still water, fancy latte and eggs with truffles. I do some more filming of the restaurant interior (mostly the spectacular contorted wooden staircase) and make my exit. 

All in all, I’d say, no, it’s not worth £80.50. Obviously it’s not. How could it be? But! But! The truffled eggs were delightful, and if you’re up for spending money for the sake of it as the world burns, then sure, you may as well drop a tonne on some scrambled eggs.