Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Don't get mixed up with the bad eggs
I'd be lying if I said I didn't cook. I avoid it where I can and I am a master at assembling other people's food on a plate, but of course when it comes down to it, you gotta' eat, so you gotta cook. I loathe and detest fast food and won't eat anything processed with palm oil. I'm sounding like a princess but really I'm just trying to stay alive. I scour the markets and boutique shops in search of real food. When I say real food I mean food that doesn't contain more chemicals than a tin of paint. Recently I discovered a new grocery store that stocked things that the big supermarkets don't. Other people have seen the store and all say the same thing "it's expensive". But then real food is if it takes time to grow and manual processes to cultivate. Cardboard is cheap, plastic is cheap, you can eat your kitchen sponge if you really want cheap but you'll have to lick the kitchen bench down when you've finished.
In my quest for food quality I purchased some free-range, organic carbon reducing, back from Copenhagen raised by nuns eggs. I only bought half a dozen because if I bought a whole dozen I would need to sell my car. When I opened the box a colour pamphlet fell out. It had photographs of the chickens and a biography of a day in the life of one of these hens. Photos of baby chickens, photos of chickens out strolling green pastures, photos with the farm's border collie dogs, Christmas with the chickens, graduation day, chicken birthday parties and so on. So with much pride I whisked my Nobel peace prize winning eggs into an omelet, being of the Elizabeth David school of thought that nothing beats a cold glass of good wine and an omelet. Half way through shovelling the food into my face I realised something was different. Taste. What was that taste? It was smooth and creamy (no, not the wine) and not sharp and dehydrated in flavour like the Alcatraz chooks at the local. Fantastic. I love it when food surprises me when you least expect it. No wonder they wanted to share their photograph album. They have a lot to be proud of. I feel like sending them a thank you letter but they are probably busy.