Eggs

Recently laid eggs from Sebastopol, CA. Look at the color of the yolk!

Given the frightening exposées about factory-style egg laying farms, I have always thought it would be lovely to have my own small chicken coop...until I went and actually visited some chickens and decided I have romanticized chicken coops. Turns out I am a bit afraid of chickens, and putting my hand beneath them to pull out the eggs fills me with dread (they look at me with those scary, beady eyes, and won't they peck me?). And. The. Smell. I admit that I have an extremely sensitive nose, but visiting the chicken barn at the Sandwich, New Hampshire fair almost knocked me out.

So, for now, I buy my eggs at the Dairy Bar across the street from our house, which come from an organic farm in Western Massachusetts and taste wonderful. However, I am determined to become more friendly with chickens because there are many brave women in my life who don't seem to mind standing up to the chickens: my mom gathers eggs from the coop at Coonamessett farm in Falmouth, and my friend Carol has her own coop on Long Island. Geri walks up Gold Ridge in Sebastopol to buy inexpensive and beautiful eggs from her Mexican neighbor, and Susan gets eggs from a colleague at work whose chickens lay more than he can eat! After eating some of these eggs, the difference is incredible: they are often smaller than mass-produced eggs, but the yolks are a spectacular golden color and the flavor is unparalleled. There may be chickens in my future, but maybe Andrew will be putting his hand in the nests for me...maybe in exchange for a lifetime of perfect omelettes?

Farm fresh eggs from Concord, MA, courtesy of Susan.