Billions of Eggs, One Basket

Sunday Omelette or Russian Roulette?

As of this morning, at least one online news source puts the number of salmonella victims who ate tainted eggs at 1,470. Over half a billion eggs have been recalled from the food supply, and--I suspect--billions more eggs, eggs that were not recalled by the two infected mega-farms, have already been dumped into garbage cans everywhere by anxious Americans, all of whom are asking, "Are grocery store eggs safe to eat anymore?"

The real questions are, "Were they ever safe?" and "Why don't we get sick more often?" Given the methods mega-farms use to produce mega-gross quantities of eggs from mega-flocks, it's amazing that the majority of us haven't all keeled over dead already, leaving all the problems of multi-billion egg distribution to the vegans. (Oh, wait. They don't eat eggs. Never mind.)

Seriously. It's no wonder people get sick from grocery store eggs, because...well...modern, state-of-the-art egg production is a filthy, filthy business. 


[Gross-out Alert:  If you're snacking at the computer, you might want to skip the next two paragraphs...]

Salmonella is spread by fecal matter. What is fecal matter? Fecal matter is excrement. Stool. Scat. Poop. Droppings. It's crap. Or, if you prefer, feces (pardon my Latin). In his article on the recent outbreak, Wayne Pacelle writes, "One reason millions of salmonella-infected eggs reach American supermarkets every year is the mistreatment of hens by the egg industry. Cramming 100,000 birds or more under a single roof in tiny battery cages creates an immense volume of contaminated airborne fecal dust that can rapidly spread salmonella infection between the birds. The best available science—a study of more than 5,000 egg operations across two dozen countries—found that for every type of salmonella studied and every type of production system examined, there was a significantly lower risk of salmonella infection in cage-free production."

Which is why I am not, myself, worried about getting sick. Because the eggs in my refrigerator didn't come from chickens that were forced to live in one giant, over-crowded "basket" of high-rise cages stacked on top of one another, where upstairs neighbors can't help but defecate on everyone below. My eggs come from chickens who are allowed to wander outdoors every day, do their business and walk away from it, and eat "real" chicken food, like bugs and grubs.

Delightful discovery of diversity.

Some of the eggs I will eat this week came from my boss, who has a small hobby farm in Western Pennsylvania where chickens are treated like pets. Other eggs I will eat this week come from a teenaged entrepreneur--I'll call him Farmer E--who is dabbling in the fine art(s) of animal husbandry in the form of a poultry business (for both eggs and poultry meat). Not only do I buy eggs from him, but I have purchased a bunch of broilers and rabbits, as well as a Thanksgiving turkey, to be delivered this fall. He may well represent the next generation of American farmers. (At least I hope he does.)

One thing I love about Farmer E's eggs is that they are so completely different from one another. Unlike the Stepford-wife, cheerful-white sameness that I grew up with, these eggs are a surprise--a delightful discovery of diversity--every time I open a new carton. The eggs differ greatly in size and shell color and shell mottling. Here are a few close-ups:

The littlest egg in the carton and the biggest.

Egg rainbow from top left, clockwise:  pale mauve, brown, plain white, green, blue green, neon white.

Almost every carton I get from young Farmer E has one extra-large in it. I suspect that it's from a single over-achieving hen that any other farmer would slaughter rather than endure the problems of selling one hen's  non-standard eggs. Her eggs do not fit in any of the standard, recycled egg cartons Farmer E uses. As you can see, cartons with a mondo egg in it will not close properly. In fact, they can only half close.

But I don't mind. These eggs are no more than a few days old when I buy them, and their yolks are an incredible orange gold. It's like sunshine. I mean... Like sunshine if sunshine were an egg yolk.

My breakfast this morning, for example, was simple and heavenly. Sunny side up, shirred eggs (eggs baked in the oven or, in my case, the toaster oven) with pre-cooked, crumpled, drained-of-excess-fat chorizo on the side(s). Add a toasted English muffin, some fruit, and a mug of iced coffee (I shoulda taken a picture of the whole meal!) and what you have is Sunday Brunch in August Deluxe!

ooooo ... lovely, lovely eggs!

 

Shirred Egg