Chicken and Egg - Janice Cole [44]
The stack of papers on my desk eventually beckoned, so I put Roxanne down and went back to work editing recipes. Was it just my imagination, or did all of the recipes I was reading call for chicken? Americans eat a lot of chicken. In fact, since 1970, we’ve doubled the amount of chicken we consume. I knew chicken recipes were always one of the most popular features in the magazine I was working for, but right then I just didn’t want to read another chicken recipe. That morning, after being with my chicks, I just couldn’t bear to think about eating chicken. Our magazine readers loved desserts. So where were the dessert recipes? I could do with reading about—or better yet, eating—an intensely rich chocolate caramel tart recipe right about then. Anything but another chicken recipe.
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One sunny morning in early August, it finally happened. The precious first egg arrived. It had taken five months and over six hundred dollars, but there it was. It was worth it. The egg was beautiful—light blue in color with a green tint, and it was perfectly shaped. It lay in the nesting box while the three chicks scurried around looking terribly nonchalant, as if this were an everyday occurrence.
I had no idea which of the girls laid it, but I placed it in the handmade Amish egg basket I had purchased for the occasion and praised the chicks. Then I called family and friends around the country and snapped a bazillion photos, as though a birth had just occurred. What a shame I was the only one home; such an exciting event seemed to call for a group celebration, such as dancing around the coop and maybe a Champagne toast.
I wanted to know which girl had laid the first egg, but I was clueless. Easter egg chicks can lay blue, green, or pink eggs, so I knew it had to be either Cleo or Lulu. Roxanne, the Buff Orpington, was going to lay brown eggs, so I could rule her out. But it wasn’t until later that I was able to determine for sure that Lulu’s blue egg was the first.
How do you prepare an egg of such significance? I thought about it during the day and settled on one of the foundations of good cooking: use the best ingredients, keep it simple, and let the ingredients shine. After Marty got home, I cracked the egg into a custard cup and was surprised to find the tinted eggshell had a glorious light blue interior, like a sky blue silk lining in a wool jacket. Naturally, I snapped more photos, so the preparation of this egg took quite some time.
I gently fried the egg in unsalted butter, lightly seasoning it with a little sea salt and freshly ground pepper. That was it. I wanted to taste the egg on its own, without any competing flavors. The yolk was round and bright like a harvest moon. It was almost orange. The egg white was brilliant and tender, and it formed a perfect circle tight around the yolk. This egg was truly an amazing creation. I shared it with my love and helpmate, and we ate it with awe, knowing the work the chick had put into producing it. We knew firsthand that a chicken never stops its constant scratching, pecking, and working in order to produce their gifts of eggs.
Two days later the other two laid their first eggs, and I had a total of three eggs in the nesting box that day. This was what I’d been waiting for. The next couple of weeks brought more eggs, many with double yolks. One week I had four double-yolk eggs. I never knew what I’d find when I cracked open an egg.
The first eggs chickens lay can be a mixed assortment. They’re new at this, and it takes their bodies awhile to sort things out. The eggs are usually small to begin with and eventually they grow to size, often with double yolks, but sometimes the yolks are misshapen.
Once the chicks began laying consistently, I could see a change in their attitude. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d opened the coop one morning and found them singing a rousing chorus of “I Am Woman.” Each of them would give a loud cluck after she laid and run out of the coop, ready for congratulations. I never failed to thank them personally