For the Happy List: #1
To counteract the down-sides of living here, both for your edification, gentle reader, and for my own mental well-being, I’m making a concerted effort and a concrete list of things that are special and good. Today it’s eggs, happy-walkin’-around-in-a-field-chicken eggs. I pick them out of a shallow wooden crate lined with parsley sitting in the truck of our produce vendors at the Saturday market. I bring my own cardboard carton (even happy-chicken eggs in the supermarket frequently come in plastic). They have feathers and dirt and don’t-think-too-much-about-it stuck on their shells. They are all shades of beige, brown, and speckled. The nice lady, Renata, assured me they wander around outside, without cages, just as birds are wont to do. The more I learn about where food comes from, the less I can find to be happy eating. I would like to be vegetarian, but I’m not there yet. I’d like to be vegan, but I’m afraid fish sauce and honey are just too important to me. So, with my piles of vegetables and soy products, I feel okay about these eggs and where they come from. Italian farmers are frugal and this region, the Lunigiana, is historically dirt poor. I’m pretty sure when those hens are through their egg-laying, dirt-scratching, bug-eating years, some farm wife has an ancient recipe for letting nothing go to waste.
Today’s episode has been brought to you by the punctuation mark Hyphen (or so it seems).