‘I attempted the unlawful egg-spresso espresso development – and it wasn’t cracking in any respect’

I tried the infamous new coffee recipe and learnt a lot about myself – and my tolerance for eggs – in the process.

Last week, influencer ‘Jimmy the Barista’ went viral after he posted a video to Instagram where he did something people classed as “illegal coffee behaviour”.

Jimmy took it upon himself to mash together an entire raw egg (including shell) into some coffee beans, before boiling it and knocking it back. According to the US-based creator, the unusual addition to his morning brew “reduced bitterness”.

READ MORE: Man ‘disgusts’ the internet with ‘criminal’ coffee ritual as grim addition slammed

There’s lots of quality news coming out of the US.

“It tastes like black tea,” Jimmy said with a straight face at the end of the video after tasting his rude concoction. In the comment section people were retching, with many pleading with authorities to send “him straight to prison” for his “disgusting” treatment of coffee.

Although it’s not illegal to bash an egg into your cup of Joe, it’s certainly a bit strange. To get to the bottom of this – and to see if Jimmy had edited out being violently sick after attempting the drink – I thought I’d try this ‘egg-spresso’ myself.

I assembled my ingredients – coffee beans and a chicken’s egg – and began grinding away. “This is for work,” I told my flatmate, who shook their head while passing silently by the stove. I felt weird while creating the bitty cement, like someone who gets a bit over-feely with supermarket fruit.

Once the chicken’s ovum had been blended into a paste, I whacked the alien substance into a saucepan, added water and started boiling. There was a knock at the door – I’d forgotten my flatmate was having people round for lunch.

“I’m so sorry about this,” was all I could say, as the reeking potion started bubbling and the guests entered the kitchen.

Feigning interest, these naïve entrants – neither of whom I’d met – wandered over. “What’s… that?!” one asked, before making the face you do after entering a toilet and seeing skid marks that aren’t yours. I stuck to my task while they were ushered away.

Finally I took it off the hob and strained it multiple times before pouring it into a mug. It smelt like death and my heart sank as I recalled pitching this idea in a meeting the day before. This wasn’t going to taste like black tea.

“Cheers,” I said, raising the noxious glass in a toast towards the guests who were cowering in a corner. The dark liquid hit my lips and I braced for the worst.

But while I waited for inevitable post-drink spewing to commence, something odd happened.

I didn’t tilt my head skywards and drop to my knees. I certainly didn’t pray to the porcelain God, either. It actually tasted…quite nice. It was non-offensive, it was palatable. It tasted like black tea.

I let out a sigh of relief and gestured at the others, none of whom could look me in the eyes. “It tastes like black tea,” I smiled.

Begs a certain question though Jimmy, you poor, sick man. Instead of going through that egg-cracking charade, why didn’t you just make black tea?