L: Courtesy of giphy R: Courtesy of the Chicken Chick

To Cluck or not to Cluck? Pt. 1

That IS the Question.

Whether ’tis nobler for the finances to buy thine eggs a’the market 
or have backyard fowl produce the freshest yield...

Growing up I was a pretty happy kid, as long as I didn’t have to eat eggs. I hated eggs. Any kind. Scrambled, boiled, deviled, over anything, I couldn’t eat them, not even quiche or omelettes. Don’t even get me started if the yolk was runny. I thought they were food from Hades. You couldn’t get me to eat an egg to save my life, save for baked goods. There was one instance when my dad made my brother (who still doesn’t eat eggs to this day) and I sit at the table until we finished our eggs. I wouldn’t do it. I was in tears because I just couldn’t stomach it. I didn’t like the smell, the texture or the taste. I gagged and gagged until my mom finally saved my brother and me from the wretched eggs. I didn’t eat another egg for years and years afterwards.

L to R: Various photos of me and my siblings circa 19…my youth
I was a pretty happy kid, as long as I didn’t have to eat eggs.

When I started dating my partner, eggs were suddenly a part of my diet again… and especially over easy eggs. I would raise one eyebrow and politely refuse whenever he offered for me to try them.

One day, probably around my birthday, he made me breakfast in bed. Bacon, toast, fruit, and — scrambled eggs. “Well, this isn’t going to last long,” I thought. “He obviously doesn’t know me.” As I stared at the plate, he noticed something was wrong and asked me about it. Instead of being thankful and grateful of the time and effort he put forth to show that he liked me, I told him I didn’t like eggs. “At least they are fluffy.” I told him. I was such an asshole. I can’t believe I had that reaction — but we are still together, so that must mean something.

Finally, I caved. It was probably a combination of being so set in my “eggless” ways, or just trying something new, but I ordered Eggs Benedict at brunch a few weeks later. I felt like Dr. Frederick Frankenstein in Young Frankenstein (played by the illustrious Gene Wilder)

courtesy of giphy — Young Frankenstein

It was one of those lightbulb moments. Something inside of me awakened, and I saw the light. I had been living under a rock. WTF was wrong with me? How could ANYONE hate the beauty of a plump egg atop ham and an english muffin slathered with lemony buttery hollandaise? Well my life was changed forever. I must have protein yolky deliciousness as often as possible. Over Easy? Sunny-side up? Poached? Yaas, Yaas, YAAAS!

The first time I made eggs benedict, circa 2010. Note the broken yolk.

Which brings me to the point. I love eggs, my partner loves eggs, and we all know, the fresher the egg, the better. During certain parts of the year, we are able to get our eggs from a local farm. Sometimes, (especially during the colder months) farm fresh eggs aren’t readily available. Very recently I learned that my city allows for backyard chickens — hallelujah! I was ready to apply for the permit, super easy get a coop and some chicks and I’d be ready to go!

When I approached the subject with my partner and editor (yes he knows I’m writing about him), let’s just say he was NOT excited about the idea. I pitched it to him that having chickens now will give me (us) practice for when we have our own plot of land and start a homestead. I had never heard so many rebuttals so quickly come out of his mouth. It was almost like he knew I was going to talk about chickens with him. I blame law school. Talk about bursting a bubble. Some of his concerns were:

How could something so docile want to eat chickens?
“We should just wait.” 
“Being in law school, I don’t want the responsibility of taking care of living beings other than our dog.”
“Who will take care of them if/when we go out of town?”
“I don’t want to take care of them when you travel for work.”
“I don’t want to clean up after them.”
“Miles (our dog) will want to eat them.”
“They are too loud”
“How will you take care of them in the winter?”

Oh Chickens. I want to start them so bad, but as you can see there are several reasons against me having them. Lucky for me, I already had the answers to many of his questions, but still his answer was “I’m not convinced”.

I’d love to hear from you, readers, your stories of chickens, ideas for convincing my partner and how much you love your chickens and eggs! Write a response, and let’s start a conversation.

Stay tuned to hear how things turn out. Fingers crossed for some honest to goodness clucking soon!