They are a symbol of life, fragility, wisdom, even your brain on drugs. They represent great successes (like a delicately crafted poach) and challenging disasters (like a carton cracking in the back seat on the way home from the store). They represent the good, the bad, the everyday, and the unexpected. They are life in an egg shell.
This whole last week has been about eggs, which is my simple explanation for why I haven’t been posting as frequently.
First of all, I’ve been on my honeymoon. I had, and still have, full intention of writing while I am gone. But for the first time in a long time, I am also giving myself permission to just relax.
Upon our arrival last Monday, I noticed that the air was cleaner, the pastures greener, and the food even more spectacular than at home. And the eggs were magnificent.
I truly believe that, until you’ve tasted a real, home-grown yolk nugget, raised in a sustainable manner, you’ve never really experienced the magic hidden inside these shells.
Lucky for me, I have a few friends in the Bay that have hobby farms from which I have received cartons of eggs, like the ones you see above. I also happen to live in a city where freshly-laid, cage-free eggs are sold in everything from the corner liquor store to the book shop. So getting my hands on something fresh – and full of what nature intended – is quite easy.
But recently, I’ve tasted something even better. The yolks are darker, the taste is milkier, the omelette’s fluffier. These eggs are no ordinary eggs. These are New Zealand eggs. And I’ve started every day with a good helping of them.
As happens in life, though, there was a crack in the plans. And on our first night, after an amuse-bouche of what New Zealand life is like, we received a phone call that my grandfather had passed away.
In the haze of a twenty one hour time change, flights were booked, accommodations cancelled, and plans were made to return home. It all seemed unreal – honeymoon high interrupted by loss – but the choice to return home was the obvious one. And after one final omelette was consumed, back we were, threading through customs, until we landed in US soil.
Here’s the sunny side of it all, though. I wouldn’t have missed the bonding experience that ensued during a time of celebratory grieving for any fairytale getaway. And the kindness shown to us by the Kiwis was far more memorable than treks along glaciers or swims with Dolphins – these sights will all be there for a long time to come. And like me in my few days down under, my grandfather devoured the good things in life and planted many seeds for others to enjoy it with as much fervor in years to come.
So this is what I takeaway from my four days of New Zealand eggs and the runny break of reality: sometimes the most simple things are the sweetest and make the most lasting imprint in your mind. With its highs and lows, but mostly the intense outpouring of love, this will truly be one of the more memorable weeks of my life.
So to celebrate life’s twists and turns and delicious memories in between, here are some links to a few of my favorite egg recipes. If you can get your hands on some locally grown gems, please do. And feel free to share the recipes that remind you of loved ones as well.
As for the rest of December, I’m resuming the honeymoon. Expect at least one post a week (if not a few surprise ones in between) that will cover low sodium holiday fare and past favorites.
Don’t forget to ask questions, make comments, and retweet like your low sodium breakfast depended on it.