What does one do with eggs too big for a supermarket? Eggs which, grown with love by Berkshire chickens, are so full of yolk that they physically can’t fit within the prescribed confines of a cardboard carton?
Well, you sell them to the locals. You know, the ones who’ll wander a mile down a lane (even in the rain) to pick up a dozen or two – for a fraction of the price you’d pay at the shop just a short drive away.
You’ll get nicer conversation, too, as the flat-capped farmer opines on the weather whilst laughing a thick, hearty laugh and handing over two cartons so stuffed with shells that a stretched rubber band is needed to keep them from tumbling to the ground in a cracked yellow mess.
Naturally, they’re also delicious. I find them at their best when scrambled, still a little soggy, with a sprinkling of pepper atop some toasted olive bread. A simple treat that’s good for all.
Of course, the chickens don’t see a penny. Then again, they get to spend most of their day roaming a pretty patch of the North Wessex Downs – which sounds better than winging it in the city.