It happens every dozen of farm fresh eggs.
What happens you ask?
I find myself pondering the impressiveness of the imperfections within the perfection of eggs laid by free-range chickens.
The differences and the similarities are as varied as the appearance of the chickens (I imagine). Maybe the owner of the farm can tell by their faces if they could get close enough to compare them?
Dark chickens lay dark eggs, white chickens lay white eggs right?
And their eggs have shells that are thicker and sometimes harder to peel. At least that’s my experience, or perhaps technique?
It is inevitable, one egg in the dozen always stands out. Or should I say stands taller than the rest of the eggs? And we, between my husband and I, see how long it will take for one of us to choose that egg to eat for breakfast. It’s like we avoid eating it until it becomes obvious we’re avoiding it. The guilt eventually takes over. It always tastes just fine, no different than the rest. We just have to get over the shape and crack away without judging too much.
We, humans, are accustomed to having perfectly shaped eggs for our breakfast. That is if we buy commercially distributed eggs. Where they are screened before packaging and only the perfect survive. Not in the free-range farm setting. If the egg doesn’t break in the transition from coop to the carton, it’s good for eating.
This egg is perfect but longer than the perfect shaped white one.
But for this meal, it does stand alone as a nose above the rest. The perfect compliment to my imperfect breakfast!
