We even got to bring home some eggs! They were cooked up immediately: rice and eggs for the kids; rice, eggs, flaming swamp cabbage (okay, spinach), and kimchee for the not-kids. Sooooo good. Much better than your standard store-bought eggs.
Before Leelo was officially diagnosed as Leelo and Mali made her appearance, we used to take an annual family trip to a farm near Sebastopol. The farm's owners had beautiful green-egg laying chickens, and we ate fresh eggs every day. I hadn't realized until now how I missed those eggs and those simpler days (as simple as any time away from home can be with both an infant and a toddler). Chowing down on the Urban Chicken eggses brought up some lovely sense memories.
Another benefit: Mali has heretofore refused to eat eggs. Scrambled, coddled, tamago'd, absolutely not. But when she found out that it was those chickens right there who laid her eggs and that she could eat those eggs? NOM NOM NOM. One more thing to thank the Urban Chickens for.
I will go to bed tonight dreaming of my own coop. Braaak braak, braaaak.
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