Eggs

My daughter in law in Scotland has ducks. They produce eggs. I had not had the pleasure of eating duck eggs before our trip in May. They were good, smooth and large but the curious thing about her duck eggs is that when they were poached they retained the original ellipsoidal shape like a rugby ball. Now, if you poach a chicken egg it becomes round. I assume it is a function of the viscosity of the duck egg versus the chicken egg. Speaking further of eggs generally, I love eggs. In the forties my father always got the egg at breakfast and we boys had to settle for toast and cereal. He was the working man and needed his protein. My brother Phil reminded me dad called them, "hen fruit". He always had eggs on the farm when he was a youth. I remember the pleasure of receiving an occasional egg in those days. Now, the pianist frequently has eggs. Boiled, fried or poached. I love eggs with a runny yolk and over easy. The pianist likes her eggs well done. We get our eggs from the farmer. They are free range and orange from the bugs the chickens eat. Some say that the orange yolk is produced in the factory chickens by feeding them with a dye in the food. I can't say whether this is true or not. The pianist says our eggs that we obtain from the farm are of superior quality. I accept she must know. For those who are experienced cooks, eggs are seen as much as an ingredient, as a stand alone food. This provides a much different and broad perspective to the egg. And practical! For me, yellow or orange, I don't care. Round or ellipsoid, I don't care! What is of significance to me is that one who is an egg eater at breakfast, has arrived! Eggs as a breakfast staple give me me a sense of affluence! I am not just a cereal and toast man any more. I am an egg and bacon man! Voila!