Correspondence Notice, Manzine Issue IV: Piggy-Fiddling

David Baker of Finsbury and WIRED magazine writes regarding Peter Lyle's Scotch Eggs recipe in Manzine No.IV, Quarta Edizione: "Fresh from Manzine and totally delicious. Nice one." He also supplied the above photograph of his creation. Original Text from Manzine Supplied below.
Pork Of The Town: 
Black pudding vs Scotch eggs: hot-to-trot recipes for piggy-fiddling urbanites eager to harness the hunter spirit
On holiday in Burgundy this summer, Manzine met some picturesque Frenchmen who were gathered around a dusty-red Renault van observing the enamel bath they'd placed outside the village post office, filled with coals, and started a fire in, with which to roast the boar they'd stumbled upon up in the local woods that Sunday morning.
We got severe France envy. The nearest modern, city-dwelling Britman can get to the crispy, feral thrill of such feats of al fresco porcicide is to watch some videos about Texan rednecks hunting down feral hogs and then rustly up a once-dirty, waste-matter-heavy snack - black pudding for your mid-afternoon stained tracky fry-up, or Scotch egg for your inner barsnacker/prostate cancer-baiting student picnicker.
Though both dishes are now found in numerous classy-restaurant iterations, the pungent stench of despair, obesity and abattoir floors still clings comfortingly to both. They resist complete gentrification by their powerful ties to death and gristle. One of the best things on television was when a dear old granny in the Highlands showed fancy chef Nick Nairn how to make black puddings. Nairn banged on about classic undersung regional dishes while she started out with the patter and the weighing, but as soon as she poured the fresh pig's blood onto the oatmeal mix, he ran out the front to throw up.

As for Scotch Eggs - the less daunting of the two recipes that follow – an anecdotal survey of 20 motorway service station customers recently indicated that a whopping 73 per cent would rather be caught on camera buying a low-grade, 40+ adult magazine than a Scotch egg at the till.
Black pudding is part of a gloriously fatty fried breakfast; Scotch egg is a fried breakfast. A deep-fried breakfast. A complete deep-friend breakfast: nutritious egg at its core, protein-packed pork next, and crispy bread to finish.
If there were a chef called Lardon Hamsay, he would surely, without prompting or sponsorship, declare this the epitome of “swine dining”. Bon appetit! (PL)
For 4 Scotch Eggs:
 1 pack (approx 350-400 grams) decent sausage meat (a pack of minced pork will suffice instead)
4 eggs, hardboiled (by simmering for 8-10 minutes, depending on size),shelled
Plain flour
1 egg, beaten
4 tablespoons bought white breadcrumbs (Panko breadcrumbs, a honey-roasted Japanese variety available in Japanese and Korean groceries, look and taste best)
Sunflower or vegetable oil for frying
Salt and pepper

Doing It
1. Season the sausage meat/pork well and separate into four equal portions.
2. Season the plain flour well and then roll the boiled eggs in it.
3. With a glass of cold water to hand for dipping your fingers while you work, mould one portion of meat around each egg until completely and evenly covered. Use your judgement on the thickness - as long as your egg is covered, don't feel obliged to use every scrap of sausagemeat.
4. Begin to heat a minimum of 2 inches of oil in a fryer or deep saucepan on medium-high.
5. Roll the eggs, now sausage-covered, in the seasoned flour again. Then brush with the beaten raw egg and roll in the breadcrumbs to cover.
6. Fry the eggs for 10-12 minutes, turning halfway to crisp both sides, and turning the heat down as you work if they're browning too quickly. Since the egg is cooked, this stage is just about crisping the crumb and cooking the sausage layer through.
Note on variations: You can use duck eggs - they're creamy and nice. You can use quail eggs - but then the laws of physics and surface areas of ovaloid objects dictate that you'll markedly change the sausage-egg ratio. You can put fancy spicy sausages, chives, herbs, even chunks of black pudding itself, into your meat layer. But that's invariably a bit poncy, and never tastes quite as good as the real, unadulterated thing.
 (Reader Note: for the black pudding section, please see Manzine Issue IV: Quarta Edizione)