Chicken or the Egg?

Today ended as it began for us, having a meal in the conservatory, the view from is just amazing, see above. Breakfast was simple fayre our own boiled eggs and dinner was slightly more complicated being one of our chickens, not all of it, that would be greedy, it will hopefully last all week in some form or other the real left overs used for soup.

I did have reservations about getting these birds but the end result was without doubt the tastiest chicken ever, it even smelled like chicken and there was no water in the pan, just real chicken juice that made the most exquisite gravy. I'm sure my colleagues at work get bored of me singing the praises of real food, but once you have tasted it you want it more. I can, hand on heart, say I will never ever buy pork or bacon from the supermarket, no matter how desperate I am for my bacon buttie it could never match up to the real bacon we make ourselves.

Even the simple boiled egg is a joyous experience here, the colour of the yolk is sunshine captured. Mind you its taken me 45 years to get my head around the fact that you can boil a duck egg.

Quite where this cognitive dissonance came from is hard to say. Cognitive dissonance is simply distorted thinking which in the face of evidence you still hold onto. Examples, well the Inuit have 47 words for snow, elephants never forget, no two snowflakes are the same and my personal favourite, Lemmings commit suicide by jumping off cliffs. None of these are true. Really, they are not.

So where did my firmly held belief "You cant boil a duck egg" come from. If ever I was asked "What does a duck egg taste like?" I would automatically reply that they were fantastic, fried the best, used in cooking unbeatable, well they are but you know what I mean, and I would always without fail add, but you cant boil them.

Now as we are about to take delivery of up to 20 Runner Ducks who are little egg factories I was starting to worry that my Sunday morning would suffer without my two soft boiled and three buttered slices. I questioned where did this wisdom come from as I advised a work colleague who purchased six duck eggs from me last week, remember you cant boil them.

My Dad. He's the one who probably led to this improper attitude to the offerings of ducks. He was the one who, lets not forget, told me as a child that Limpets bit. Yes the humble shelled mollusk that clings to the surface of rocks decorating rock pools were in fact vicious monsters who bit. I cannot even begin to tell you how many days on the beach were ruined by my fear that the seemingly inert Limpet would suddenly leap from its rock and savage my throat out. By age ten I was curious that despite lots of trips to the coast I had never been bit, by age 12 I wondered why there were no warning posters up informing us of this lethal danger. 13 I was in direct confrontation with the lurking menace, finding a safe spot on the rocks, limpet free and a clear line of site free of obstacles so I could run screaming back to the car, I would lob rocks at them, goading the Limpets and its chums to take a bite. 14 I was sitting next to them with my arm held out saying "Go on then" in a soothing voice trying to hide the rock in my other hand, just in case.

I now know that Limpets don't bite and it was one of those stories Dad's tell you to keep you quiet, stop you running off or just to show how knowledgeable they are.

I sat at my desk after my colleague left my office and I repeated my mantra, "You cant boil a duck egg"

Why?

What could happen? Do they suddenly tum poisonous? Will the kitchen explode? Will the duck egg police turn up and arrest me for improper use of eggs?

It was, it has to be said, with some trepidation I put the two duck eggs in the pan of boiling water. I even held my breath as I cut the top off.

I now know what happens, you get the most delicious breakfast.

Cheers Dad.

Next week I am going to boil a goose egg. Don't try and stop me!

Rocky looking at the path leading home, thats our hill on the right, Offas Dyke goes off to the left.