A brief tangent about eggs.

I just have to insert, at this date, a brief rant about eggs.

If you have never eaten fresh eggs from a chicken that you have personally met, I would highly recommend that you immediately scrap all your plans for the bar and go try to make the acquaintance of a local chicken or two instead.

Fresh eggs from a chicken that eats as well as people do … these eggs taste nothing like the watery yellow beans you can buy from the store. FROM ANY STORE. Even the hippy co-op vegan-fed freerange cagefree ones cannot compare to the deep orange deliciousness of a fresh egg straight from a good friend’s cloaca.



I have two or three or four friends who keep chickens. All of them feed them like people, like pets. They talk to them, the chickens roam around and get into mischief, and have names.

I’ve met some of these chickens. And when the eggs start at the beginning of spring I am very glad to have met them.

I mean, grocer’s eggs are yellow. The yolks are watery and yellow. These are orange, like an orange. thick. viscous. Standing up in the sea of frothy whites. They’re little miracles. Now, in the winter they make less eggs. So I buy the ones from the hippy store (cagefree veganfed etc etc) and they are like eating water compared to the fresh eggs my friends poop out. I feel the lack of them the way I feel the want of sunshine.


I’m not much of a cook (you could have guessed) but even I can make delicious breakfast with these things. My god you could just pour them from the shell onto a piece of bread and it’d be like gourmet food.

I had a tummyache all day, and a few of these were the only thing I could keep down. They’re medicine in a shell.

My chicken friends, thanks. I’m ever so grateful.