I have been trying to be better about getting to know my neighbors and making friends where I live. I made it a point to go to the mid-week church activities, including a quilting bee.
"A quilting bee?" asked Joe.
"Like a spelling bee?"
"I suppose...maybe it means a group of people getting together to work on one thing?"
"But wouldn't that be a spelling hive? Or a quilting swarm?"
"...You've got me on that one."
So it was, at quilting hive, that one of my neighbors discussed the newest chicks added to her brood of chickens. While the idea of keeping chickens is an anathema to me, I have no problems with any, or all, of my neighbors keeping them. They could even have a rooster; it couldn't be any worse than the outdoor parrot several houses away (that thing's cries echo off the mountains, my friends, piercing a Saturday morning like a gun shot.) My neighbor, who is naturally energetic and a mile-a-minute, divulged her love of Pinterest and finding egg recipes. I volunteered a few ideas while composing my block. It was a lovely night and I'm glad I went.
The door vibrated with a knock this morning, and I shuffled in my house coat, channeling Phyllis Diller, to find my neighbor holding a dozen fresh, very fresh, eggs. They were gorgeous: malt, seafoam, light moss, and cafe au lait. Little shavings of bedding crowned a few. When I broke them open, the orange yolks slayed me (like all good backyard eggs.) It's such a disappointment to crack a commercial egg after that, with its pale, sodden, winter sun of a yolk.
My friend Becky posted Dorie Greenspan's French Lemon Cream Tart a few days ago. I couldn't think of a better use for those fresh eggs (and an obscene amount of butter, positively graphic.)
So I made two, one for us and one for my neighbor, because that's how I roll. Bring me eggs and I will bring you France. Bring me butter and I'll bring you England. Bring me chocolate and I'll bring you Mexico. Bring me sugar and I'll bring you heaven.
And wouldn't you know, when I left the tart,
she handed me a dozen more eggs for the walk home.