I love eggs. Free range of course, and preferably from a small backyard flock. We buy ours from a lady down the road at the bargain price of 1.25 a dozen.
They are my favourite food. Hard boiled, dipped in Maldon sea salt and white pepper - best eaten in the sun, sat on grass. Gently fried in butter, nestling on a slice of toasted granary with a dab of ketchup. Poached to wobbly sublimity with sauteed mushrooms and Worcestershire sauce. Roughly chunked into creamy mayonnaise, folded into lettuce leaves and tucked into a brown roll - add a dash of chilli sauce for piquancy. Soft boiled in a pretty vintage eggcup, with Marmite soldiers. These are just a few of the egg's outstanding solo performances. And in its virgin state, it provides a simple but perfect decoration. If you want to learn the basics of light fall, study an egg.
They are my favourite food. Hard boiled, dipped in Maldon sea salt and white pepper - best eaten in the sun, sat on grass. Gently fried in butter, nestling on a slice of toasted granary with a dab of ketchup. Poached to wobbly sublimity with sauteed mushrooms and Worcestershire sauce. Roughly chunked into creamy mayonnaise, folded into lettuce leaves and tucked into a brown roll - add a dash of chilli sauce for piquancy. Soft boiled in a pretty vintage eggcup, with Marmite soldiers. These are just a few of the egg's outstanding solo performances. And in its virgin state, it provides a simple but perfect decoration. If you want to learn the basics of light fall, study an egg.
I adore auriculas. They have a recherche charm and, like Audrey Hepburn, they are exquisite under any circumstances. I only have a few, and they are sadly neglected. I'm surprised that they flower at all, they get such bad mothering. They come in a huge range of elegant colour combinations and are the dandies of the flower world. When I am truly a lady of leisure I will have a white wood Victorian conservatory, filled with row upon row of these beautiful little darlings. Like elegant lords and ladies at a grand promenade, they will parade their latest cravats and crinolines, discreetly turning their heads to peek at what the others are wearing. Quietly gossiping...'peagreen Taffeta is so last season my dear...'
And finally, we are pleased to offer our congratulations to Mr and Mrs Jackdaw. Their eggs cracked at dawn this morning, producing a hungry and garrulous family. The chimney breast echoes with scrambling claws and anxious 'chacks'. From the garden we can see the new parents huddling on the pot and peering nervously into their nest, which is about level with our heads when we are in bed. Mr Jackdaw, looking somewhat weary, said
'It's amazing, it totally changes your life! I can tell we're going to be up even earlier now, with this lot to feed!'
And so, if past years are anything to go by, are we.
'It's amazing, it totally changes your life! I can tell we're going to be up even earlier now, with this lot to feed!'
And so, if past years are anything to go by, are we.
