There is Nothing Like an Egg

We have chickens at the bottom of our very long (and thin) garden. No neighbours at the back to annoy - there are allotments over the brook - so that's the best place for them. At present we have two laying, one in retirement (though perhaps laying very very occasionally still) that we are too cowardly to do away with, and one youngster still a good fortnight off being productive. The upshot is we get two eggs a day currently. Eggs that taste of egg are a boon to the cook.

Yesterday I made a cake spiced with mace and cinnamon, into which two very fresh eggs went. Last week egg mayonnaise, such a simple thing to do, was as ever appreciated as the eggs taste wonderful. We just gave a couple to the people who have moved in next door, saying sorry for recent escapes into their garden by the youngster who doesn't yet know better. Where she is getting through the hedge and chicken wire still a mystery.

Omelettes are equally enjoyable, and the simplest thing to make. Made with good eggs like these you don't need a filling. I have a feeling that as austerity bites further, and we find that we don't bounce back to quite as high as we were before, that more people will be keeping hens.

There is a lesson in the keeping of them for the cook or menu planner too. I am convinced the more they are out and about, adding variety to their diet (layers' pellets plus loads of scraps and plenty of seed), and the happier they are, the better the eggs. It's hard to verify this hypothesis scientifically, but I remain certain. And the stuff they eat to make the eggs better is an eye-opener: blood-worms are a special treat; wood-lice; slugs; larvae found in the soil (species unknown); grass; dandelions; the occasional mouse-head left by our cat; once or twice when we couldn't intervene in time a baby frog. Nature red in beak and claw as it were. But no complaints as there is nothing like an egg, or (Wodehouse would be proud) a good egg.