One of the (many) things I love about the village is not just being able to get my weekly delivery of eggs from friends, but that they remember that we enjoy duck eggs, too. On Sunday, I get this message, along with the New Year niceties -
The ducks are laying. Would you be interested?
Well, the proverbial, does a bear, you know what...came to mind. I kinda consulted the co-management (aka The Husband) and, along with reciprocal New Year niceties, asked -
Could I get half a dozen of each? 🐣🦆
So, this week, our Thursday, often egg, often salad supper, was soft poached duck eggs. Two for him; one for me, with a little hen's egg, too.
Delivered that morning.
I remember my first duck egg. I must have been five or six. My mother came home with them and unlike these, they were (proper) duck egg blue. I loved the colour and the eggs. Well nigh fifty years later, I still have that little girl glee at being able to get duck eggs. That I can do a grown up, perfect poach, is a bonus. (
Ten years here and nearly 30 years of my/our own gardenloot and I still get a huge kick out of both that and seasonal village produce.
Oh, and I hope to get peach gleanings this weekend to make chutney...
Soul food.
Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
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Original artwork:
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