They arrived on our front porch like some perfectly-hatched surprise Christmas gift – a dozen gorgeous eggs in a rainbow of shades. Our friend Scott recently posted a photo of his chickens on FaceBook, and I was so entranced I’m afraid I may have demanded delivery of their eggs, not expecting anyone to so graciously abide. Well, Scott’s a good egg, and oblige he did.
I brought them in out of the cold and promptly nestled them into a cloth-lined bowl for their portrait. Beautiful hues of brown and ivory and the palest blue played gorgeously against one another and with their earthenware vessel.
Newly-hatched farm-fresh eggs, he advised, didn’t always work best for hard boiling, so I’ve only been frying these up – and they have been heaven. I leave the yolk in decadently runny form, ready for that fork-piercing moment just before I run a piece of toast or kimchi fried rice through it. It’s a natural, sunny sauce that rivals any Hollandaise or Bearnaise. Many thanks to Scott for brightening our winter days.
