I was out of eggs last week and mentioned such to DG, who graciously replied that she had 3 dozen eggs and would give me one dozen. How does one lithe girl gobble down 3 dozen eggs or, rather, how did she come into possession of that many eggs? Well, she has an egg connection at the agriculture college on campus. A nice lady she knows collects eggs from her chickens and sells them to DG. I am unsure of their financial arrangement but DG has been very happy with it.
I made scrambled eggs for the fam last Sunday using the kindly proffered dozen. The old man and DJ were astonished. "Why do the eggs suddenly taste so great," the old man wondered as he shoveled another forkful in his maw. DJ demanded more. "Crud," I remember thinking, "this is why local eggs are so great." The yolks were these beautiful, deep yellow-orange color and they were so, so, tasty. Too tasty.
I started hoarding them. We still have two, having just eaten two for breakfast mere moments ago. Those last two are mine! "Mommy," my son will say, "may I have the last two eggs in the fridge?" (He might use "can" instead of "may" but we're still working on that) I will have to say, "Eggs? I'm sorry, honey, we have no more eggs."
Yes, I will lie to my lovely child in order to enjoy the last two chicken-fresh eggs. Actually, they're not too fresh, anymore, since I've been hoarding them, but the devil's in the details, no?
Got this neat-o picture of a chicken and egg from the Odette Sculpture Park site of Windsor, Ontario