Dickon made the stimulating discovery that in the wood in the park outside the garden where Mary had first found him piping to the wild creatures there was a deep little hollow where you could build a sort of tiny oven with stones and roast potatoes and eggs in it. Roasted eggs were a previously unknown luxury and very hot potatoes with salt and fresh butter in them were fit for a woodland king—besides being deliciously satisfying.
The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
When I stayed with my friend Lean in Australia, I got to know her chickens. We visited the hutch every morning, letting them out so they could scratch around the garden, shake out their feathers, and peck indiscriminately at herbs. They left behind them a rainbow of pastel coloured eggs: a pale sky blue, a greenish teal, a dusky pink. Lean knows her chickens, and could tell me which egg came from which hen. Back in the kitchen, we boiled the eggs for breakfast, dipping generously buttered soldiers into the runny centres.
Humans have been eating birds’ eggs for the entirety of recorded history, so it is of little surprise that we have discovered seemingly infinite ways to put them to use. Everyone has their favourite method of cooking them: I like them poached in quietly simmering water until the whites become opaque, fried in smoking hot oil so that the lacy edge of the white crisps up perfectly, or scrambled over the gentlest of flames until they can be spooned – still wobbling – onto toast. Dickon and Mary roast them under stones alongside tiny potatoes (make sure you poke a hole in the shell of your eggs if you want to try this, as they’re liable to explode). Call Me By Your Name’s Oliver has to be shown the way of slicing the top off a boiled egg so he can dip toast into the yolk.
I marvel often at their utility, but it is when they are separated into yolks and whites that the true magic of eggs can be observed. The yolks can be employed to make rich hollandaise, velvety soft zabaglione, cured and grated as a seasoning, or cooked gently in milk and cream to make a custard thick enough to coat your tongue. The whites form the basis for meringue, feather-light cakes, or can be shaken with whisky, lemon, and ice to make a frothy cocktail. In short, there’s nothing more useful in my kitchen than an egg.