Cowboy bennies: a manifesto

11 Nov, 2025

For as long as I have been interested in cooking, YouTube has obsessed itself with serving me videos on how to make "foolproof hollandaise". This lends itself to a straightforward narrative-- that the existence of "non-foolproof hollandaise" is why the average diner only eats eggs Benedict when they're at a brunch eatery with "prices aren't on the online menu" prices. After all, most anyone can poach an egg; most anyone can assemble a toasted English muffin, ham, and said egg, in that order. Anyone can dust dried chives, pepper, paprika, or some other primary-colored particulate on top of the result, and serve. The conclusion is that hollandaise sauce-- the relatively difficult mother sauce that combines the richness of egg yolks, the richness of butter, and the richness of more butter-- is what lifts eggs Benedict beyond the scope of what a home cook should be expected to make.

And yet the advent of "foolproof hollandaise" has yet to democratize the eggs Benedict. I have several theories on why this could be. The first is that, truly, nobody needs to eat this amount of egg. I can't deny that a dish comprised mostly of egg yolks and butter is delicious, nor would I even deny that the salty ham does somewhat break up the richness, making the experience distinct from shoveling egg yolks into one's mouth. But the simple pleasure of watching a jammy poached egg run onto a field of starch has been smothered away. There are diminishing returns in taste, alongside compounding ones in food coma capacity. Having so little to say other than "eggs" makes the dish feel, paradoxically, both overly rich and incomplete. While they're an undeniably great brunch, I wouldn't eat eggs Benedict before work unless I had a job that allowed power-naps.

Furthermore, it's difficult to justify any recipe that uses disproportionate amounts of egg yolk. Maybe if you have a regular 9-to-5 and a good sleep schedule, there's a chance you have time enough in the mornings to prepare food consistently, and won't just end up tossing out the six egg whites you keep "just in case". For us mortals, forget it. Egg prices are no longer at hack political cartoon levels, but they're still not cheap, and I'd rather not use them in such a redundant role.¹ Just as there are brunch meetings that could have been emails, there are hollandaises that could have been herb butters.

All this is a shame, because eggs Benedict are otherwise perfect for feeding something elevated, yet comfortable to a crowd of, say, six. Unlike, say, a burger and fries, eggs Benedict does not live or die off the chef's command of economies of scale. Poaching medium-large numbers of eggs is downright satisfying. The English muffin and ham are hardly a chore; I've been known to finish my mise en place in the air fryer. It's annoying to keep hollandaise warm while you work on sides, but I'm not whipping out my trusty Thanksgiving spreadsheets or anything. It's low on stove space, it's easy to make sides for, it has a nice pedigree, and it's such an easy meal to plate and photograph. Make no mistake-- it's not difficult to serve six people eggs Benedict, but doing so will make you look like a star.

For many, this is enough. But for a gal like me who keeps her copy of Doctor Faustus next to The Noma Guide to Fermentation, enough is never enough. If the eggs Benedict were approached from a problem-solving perspective, asking the purpose of every ingredient, possibly even solving the "egg yolk problem"... what's to stop the home chef from prepping almost everything in advance, entertaining their guests more thoroughly, actually having plates on the table at the time everybody expected? What's to stop her from becoming a god among yuppies?

The Cowboy Bennie

I know I'm not talking out of my ass, because every brunch spot around me has found some way to hijack the pedigree of the eggs Benedict, often while reducing the dish's dependency on yolk-per-capita and replacing the ham with something more punchy. Our favorite spot has a version with salmon, cream cheese, and capers, like a bougie bagel, and it's the bomb. Other have invented reuben eggs benedict and a steak and eggs take. And, of course, eggs Florentine needs no introduction.

My goal is to join the ranks by fixing the problems that keep me from getting the dish to the table smoothly. I'll be abusing my standpoint as a woman born of the southwest United States to justify a delicious dish I call "cowboy bennies". I've prepped this dish for crowds multiple times now, including for my own mother, and it has killed every time.

Let's go through it chronologically. We prep two ingredients the night before. The first is our bread. The English muffin is typically cut with a knife rather than pulled apart with a fork, allowing it to serve as a flatter canvas for the ham. But if nooks and crannies aren't a priority, I'll switch to something more southwestern: a nice, fluffy, preppable biscuit. You can make the dough, stick them in the freezer, and put them straight into the oven the next morning 30 minutes before service. ²

The second ingredient we can prep the night before is our hollandaise substitute: salsa verde. This substitution is the reason this is a blog post, and not a recipe-- I've made my case against hollandaise, and while I'm a little sad to see it go, I think we all understand why it needs to happen. We get to hijack the legacy of the eggs Benedict, while substituting the richness overload with the classic combo of eggs and spicy sauce, and did I mention you can make this days in advance and not think about sauce splitting? I suspect that enchilada sauce, or really any other sufficiently thick spicy salsa, would do just as well, but the verde adds some nice texture and color.

After a good night's sleep, we can wake up and leisurely prepare for service. We poach our eggs, of course. We prepare our meat-- ham is fine, and I replace it not because of any ill will, but out of a nostalgia for the classic Tucsonan combination of chorizo and eggs. And we prepare garnishes-- I'll usually reserve some cilantro leaves from the salsa verde, and prepare a nice shake of Tajin. Crema is optional (the kosher eaters in my household are fine without it) but in a lot of ways it's the perfect thematic sidegrade from hollandaise. Cheddar cheese is another alternative-- and would be "traditionally southwestern", according to one well-researched cookbook I own.

The best part? As I plate, I'll use the bottom part of each biscuit as the base of a bennie. With the other, I'll spread honey or honey butter, plus a little bit of cotija or queso fresco. The result is that, with extraordinarily little effort, we've made a meal that has a good variety of savory and sweet, which makes it feel complete in a way that doesn't require two bennies (and thus two eggs) per person. ³

Cleanup

To summarize all that as a thesis: Problem-solving creativity is the most powerful technique I have access to. By thinking outside the box in response to the simplest possible solution not working, we've produced as much of an evolution of eggs benedict as is possible when you don't believe in inexorable progress. Go forth, my brood, and create-- create to fix the world when it is broken, and appreciate it when it is not.

To summarize all that as an easy-to-reference recipe: On the bottom half of a homemade biscuit, place a poached egg, chorizo, salsa verde, and optionally crema. Garnish. On the top half of the biscuit, spread honey and sprinkle with cotija.

#food