I’ve seen the late-night infomercials for this product, but I never gave it much thought. After all, what possible use could I have of a device whose sole purpose is to make cooking an egg far too complicated? Then I read a review of it in The Guardian, with accompanying video and I knew I needed one of these immediately. Not because I really wanted a device to cook my eggs into flaccid, wiggly phalluses (phalli?) but because I wanted to experience the utter magnificence of this device firsthand. I admit it, I am a glutton for punishment and nothing says punishment like making food into flavorless tubes for more efficient ingestion. Speaking of punishment, the Rollie is accompanied by a cookbook filled with recipes, some of which seem less like cooking and more like punishing ingredients for the audacity of not coming in roll form.
My first experiment with the Rollie was just plain eggs, what the device was originally made for. Just as promised, my egg phallus rose proudly erect from the depths of the Rollie chamber, still-liquid yolk glistening on its tip. That is, until it was spent from the effort and drooped over, the yolk dripping from its head onto the counter below, as if to say “I’m finished, you can wrap your lips around me now.”
I ignored the egg as I am not fond of liquid yolk, so I flipped it over as the instructions suggested to finish it. Once again, it rose straight until it was exhausted, though having spent all its yolk on the first round, there was nothing to mess my counter.
Once I had determined that the eggrection was technically food, I decided to try a couple more recipes. I quickly regretted my decision as a flaccid tube of runny egg, supermarket cheese, and soggy crackers drooped at me, shamed by its existence. “It’s okay,” I whispered to the poor thing. “I’m sure you’ll meet a friend down at the composting party.”
After thoroughly cleansing the Rollie’s orifice with the conveniently included brush, I retired for the evening, spent from the work required to keep track of whether or not the Rollie’s contents had been cooked. On one hand, the steam pressure that forces the eggrection out of its hole should indicate it is cooked, that isn’t necessarily the case. The Rollie cookbook gives times for cooking its may recipes, from about five minutes to pushing ten minutes. Sometimes, the eggrection is pushed out before even coming close to the 8 minutes of cooking time needed, which then requires messy removal and awkward reinsertion, as if I haven’t done this sort of thing before.
During one late night, I got the munchies and, putting my dignity aside, I decided to see about that Rollie recipe that’s just a hot dog covered in an egg tube. It was perfectly edible, but this highlighted the fundamental flaw of the Rollie: it’s ridiculously inefficient. How long does it take to nuke a hot dog? 25 seconds, according to the back of the package of my snooty Angus hot dogs (and my aged microwave concurs). How long does it take to throw a loosely scrambled egg in a frying pan? 2 to 3 minutes, according to my half-assed timing. How long does it take to cook an egg-covered Rollie hot dog eggrection? 6-8 minutes, according to the cookbook. In the time it takes to cook a Rollie egg dog, I could have been enjoying my protein and fat for several minutes. Time is all we have, people, and why would I want to spend more time to put one soggy eggrection in my mouth when I could spend less time experiencing the real thing?
Regarding its inefficiency, with the long cooking times and single eggrection quantity, this is absolutely not ideal for parties, despite the promotional video’s suggestion otherwise.Imagine trying to make an entire platter of Rollie’s version of pizza rolls for a party, or even just more than two people. In the amount of time it takes for a single Rollie pizzarection to present itself to you, you could have baked an entire pan of regular pizza rolls. This with the same amount of food prep, but not the frequent lubrication of Rollie’s fussy orifices.
A petty complaint is that it has no on/off button. It simply is on while plugged in. Granted, it has the handy lights that show you if it’s on, but with as many warning labels as there are in the world, this could be a bit problematic. Remembering to unplug the Rollie is not high on the list of priorities when an egg-infused tortilla rectangle rises to greet you in the morning. More likely, priority number one is finding out who is responsible for whatever is going on there.
Of course, none of this compares to the Rollie’s complete violation of tortillas. Tortillas, those delicious, round flatbreads filled with many delights, have one very defining feature: they are round. Their second feature is that you put things in them and they conveniently roll up for on-the-go deliciousness. The Rollie corrupts the very nature of the tortilla, the very essence of what makes a tortilla a tortilla. In order to use a tortilla in the Rollie, you have to cut it into a 4x7 rectangle.
Yes, that is what I just said. The noble tortilla, nature’s most angelic food wrapping, turned into a seedy square, ready to be adulterated with eggrections and devil knows what else. The Rollie cookbook even comes with a template on the back, so we can butcher the hapless tortilla with precision. I couldn’t bear to do it. I begged my tortilla’s forgiveness for even contemplating such a thing, and proceeded to turn it into a delicious and proper breakfast taco that I enjoyed while I watched yet another Rollie eggrection force its way to the surface.
The Rollie is wildly inefficient and a novelty at best. While I enjoyed my tryst with the Rollie, I’m afraid I have to give it merely three stars. The lack of an on/off switch was a demerit for me, as well as it’s inefficiency in pleasing multiple people at once.