Regular readers know that I am obsessed with eggs and their culinary "powers." I buy the best, freshest eggs I can find. The difference between your average mega-mart eggs, and some fresh, local, cage-free eggs is substantial, and I find that my mood is significantly diminished, when I run out of the good ones and am forced to use the others.
In my ongoing search for eggceptional eggs, I've set up a little network of purveyors. A cute girl gives me chicken eggs from her Americauna Hens, and my other buddy Jake gives me duck eggs from two ducks (Shawntrel and Goose) that he lovingly (I'm sure) cares for in his backyard. Life is good right?
This connection is important to me. You know in The French Laundry Cookbook, how Thomas Keller includes sections glorifying his purveyors? This is my equivalent. I remember when I went to Per Se, my server described one of the butters for bread. He said that it comes from seven cows, that produce butter, exclusively for The French Laundry and Per Se. When you have something like that, it's special. I'm Jake's only client.
As I said, his ducks have just started laying again, and my days have been transformed. Now that I can scramble up a few ducks eggs before I go to school, breakfast really is the most important meal of the day for me, not to mention the most looked-forward-to.
I tore through the dozen eggs he first gave me, and I will make quick work of the 18 he just gave me. I feel like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast and I like it. Now if I could only imitate his tactics with women...
PS: That's my whole wheat bread!