My first meal on a weekend will never be a salad. Monday through Friday, sure, I’ll put together something healthy. Something with kale. Something with yogurt and berries. But all I want Saturday revolves around the difficult task of bringing eggs to the farmers market.
This Saturday Truck Patch farm only brought about 20 cartons of eggs; they usually have triple. I grabbed a dozen right away. Weeks earlier, when Brian the farmer didn’t show up with many eggs, he told me the reason was it was too hot. The chickens wouldn’t lay. And I was like, dude, I totally get it. I wouldn’t want to do much of anything in this heat, much less squirt out a fucking egg. I figured the same thing happened this week. But no. Another natural occurrence took place – a predator ate the eggs. Brian found broken shells.
I can’t blame that fox or coyote for lapping up all those runny yolks.
Luckily though, they saved some for me.
Yolky Sun with Zucchini Rays