Imagine the wonder and surprise in my little boy's eyes when he opens a carton of eggs to find that they are all just a little bit different, with one blue egg and one speckled egg nestled in amongst the others, each a different size.
Intrigued by the prospect of a blue egg, Izzy immediately reserved it for himself. I told him we would save it for a "fried egg day", to savor its goodness.
Today turned out to be the day Izzy requested his egg for breakfast, heretofore unheard of. He happily burst the bright shining yolk with his bread, dunking it in, savoring its flavor as it dripped down his chin.
Egg bliss.
These Upper Meadows Farm eggs (from the Hamilton Park Farmers' Market) were a delight to behold, even for me. I imagined a diverse bunch of hens clucking around, contentedly laying them. It is for that image and many other reasons as well, that I will only purchase eggs from a farmer I know and trust, which sometimes means a trip to Union Square, in the freezing cold, with eggs on my brain.
I have been buying local farm eggs for the past 10 years or so and often hesitate at the idea of buying eggs at the supermarket, even when desperate times call for desperate measures. When I have no choice, I look for organic, free-roaming eggs that are as local as possible (say Pennsylvania instead of Wisconsin for example). For more in-depth egg-selection criteria, check out this article in today's New York Times. And keep in mind that eggs are most incredible when fresh from the farm.
A little egg poetry...
Carton Surprise
Different sizes.
Different colors.
One blue.
One speckled.
One brown.
One freckled.
What have the hens gone and done.
Magic is within each one.
Bright yellow yolk.
Smooth white
True eggy taste
in every bite.
No comments:
Post a Comment