The best food doesn’t need Michelin stars or white tablecloths. It doesn’t need edible gold or fancy plating. The best food is the kind you find in a bar, thick with the smell of beer and regret, served by a guy who’s seen things. No questions asked. And that’s where Soleier—pickled eggs—come in.
I came across them in Düsseldorf. Now, Düsseldorf isn’t the kind of place you go looking for enlightenment. It’s a “wash it down with a cold Altbier and move on” kind of place. But there I was, walking into a brewery, past pork knuckles and rye bread, when I found myself fixated on something I hadn’t tasted in ages: Soleier, classic German pickled eggs.
These pickled eggs are legends of the German bar scene. Once upon a time, they’d sit in massive glass jars, waiting for some slightly buzzed soul to point at them and say, “I’ll have one of those.” Brined to perfection, served with mustard, vinegar, and oil. Cheap. Salty. Perfect with a beer.
I thought Soleier had disappeared—after all, who even thinks about pickled eggs anymore? But, much to my surprise, there they were, on the menu. And let me tell you, nothing beats the thrill of finding a little culinary gem you thought was lost.
Soleier are more than just bar food. They’re a throwback to a time when snacks weren’t all shrink-wrapped and shelf-stable. Back then, they were practical—hard-boiled eggs that didn’t spoil, soaking in vinegar and spices, ready for the next round of beers. They were salty enough to keep you thirsty, tangy enough to make you reach for one more.
And that’s the beauty of Soleier: they’re humble but full of character. You slice into one, and it’s like biting into a piece of history—the bar counter where it soaked up the smell of ale and smoke.



Chili Pickled Eggs, with Tons of Herbs
Ingredients
- 30 eggs
- 1 onion
- 10 shallots
- 30 g sugar
- 60 g salt
- 4 tbsp yellow mustard seeds
- 3 tbsp caraway seeds
- 2 tbsp black peppercorns
- 4 red chilies
- 8 juniper berries
- 8 allspice berries
- 4 bay leaves
- 2 cloves
- 400 ml white wine vinegar
- 200 ml light apple cider vinegar
- 1.5 bunches fresh dill
- 0.5 bunch parsley curly-leaf
- 1 bunch tarragon
- Zest of 1 untreated lemon
- A very large resealable jar
Instructions
- Boil the Eggs: Start with 30 eggs. Hard-boiled. Drop them into cold water, bring to a boil, and let them bubble for 10 minutes. Cool them under cold water. Peel. Yes, it’s tedious. Yes, you’ll curse when the shells don’t cooperate. But it’s worth it.
- Roast the Onion: Slice an onion in half. Toss it into a dry pan, cut-side down. Let it char. Let it smell like something you’d find in a street food market in some forgotten corner of the world.
- Make the Brine: Toss the charred onion, sugar, salt, mustard seeds, caraway seeds, peppercorns, juniper berries, allspice, bay leaves, and cloves into a pot with the vinegars and water. Bring to a boil. It’s going to smell sharp and almost medicinal—perfect. Add the shallots. Let it simmer.
- Assemble the Jar: Pack the eggs in layers, along with fresh dill, parsley, and tarragon. Pour the brine over them, making sure they’re fully submerged. At this point, you’re basically a mad scientist in the kitchen. Embrace it.
- Wait for the Magic: Let the jar sit for at least 24 hours. Yeah, it’s a waiting game. But when you crack open an egg, you’ll understand why it was worth it.
How to Eat Soleier? The real ritual begins here. Slice the egg in half, scoop out the yolk, and fill the cavity with salt, pepper, mustard, and a little vinegar. Put the yolk back in, take a bite, and wash it down with a sip of beer. It’s salty, tangy, and unapologetically brash—the kind of snack that slaps you in the face and then hugs you afterward.
Why You Should Make Them
Soleier are more than just pickled eggs—they’re an experience. They’re messy, bold, and perfect in their imperfections. You don’t make Soleier for a polished dinner party; you make them for friends who appreciate a good bar snack and a great story.
Because sometimes, the best food isn’t about elegance. It’s about getting your hands dirty, savoring something simple, and raising a glass to the traditions that came before you.
So go ahead, make a jar of Soleier. Let them sit on your counter like the rebels they are. And when you crack one open, you’ll taste a little bit of Germany, a little bit of history, and a whole lot of flavor.