I bought my first dozen eggs from a coworker that lives out in Carroll County. I try to weigh every food decision I make in consideration of all the information that I’ve accumulated on the subject of food. There’s so much information out there that when it comes to figuring the mess out it’s hard to know whether you’re coming or going. Marion Nestle wrote a good book that provides a comprehensive analysis of what can be found inside your local supermarket, how to decipher the information given and what it all means for the consumer. She also has a blog that she updates regularly with useful information that you can find here.
I mention that because on some level I’d prefer it if the carton my coworker’s eggs came in was stamped with words like organic, natural and free range. The whole idea of it has just been drilled into my brain for so long which, of course, was the goal of ‘big organic’ that produced those eggs for the grocery store. All this is to say that I’ve concluded that I am happy to pay a buck fifty (I was wrong about 75 cents) for a carton of oddly shaped and randomly sized eggs even though they’re not certified by any government agency because I know that a) the chickens are her sons pets, b) she feeds the same eggs to her family and c) they are incredibly fresh.
Oh, and Chase’s first order of business? Crack and egg just like I showed her on Tuesday night, except unsupervised and on the dining room table. I saved the egg after the first tap and before it was completely decimated but as soon as I had the egg put somewhere safe Chase had moved on to carrying half a cake into the kitchen for me. Carrying it, I should add, by the plastic dome as opposed to the base. I saved that too and then I scooped her up and gave her a big hug.