What’s the matter? Are you Chicken?

During Sunday’s lunch of Coq au Vin, there was a lot of chicken talk, that is, about raising chickens.  I’ve been kicking around the idea for some time, and it only seem natural since we have the space and France has that crazy fascination going on with the egg  At times, my mind gets off track and I imagine myself working through dozens of French recipes with all the fresh eggs I’ll have on hand.  Christophe warns the egg fanaticism is a slippery slope that, once on, is hard to get off.  I’ve contemplated his warning, and decided that I’m willing to take that risk.  Heck yeah – fresh eggs!

While Christophe might not be much a big fan of raising chickens, he’s slowing coming around to the idea of having some.  He knows chickens from his uncle’s farm, and is starting to discuss where we could build the chicken coop.  He knows what to feed them and why.  Christophe confirms what everyone has been telling me all along, “they are no work at all.”  Well, I don’t think that all true since they are animals that need to be feed and properly sheltered, but what I think everyone is really saying is they are very little work with fresh eggs in return.

As with any investment, there are risks.  In this case, it’s foxes.  Our neighbors had five chicks picked off one by one over the course of a week in broad daylight.  Clearly, they weren’t happy.  Foxes tend to prowl at twilight hours, so this one was particularly brave, or hungry. Raising chickens presents the responsibility of being present daily; a quick tour to close their coop and make sure they are safely inside only takes a few minutes, but it means being here.  With few exceptions, we are.  We don’t eat dinners at restaurants and when we do pass an evening with friends it’s almost always in the village.  In some way, this should be a no brainer, but there are weekends when we go elsewhere, so I hesitate.  I’ve been told the chickens could be left outdoors in their enclosed areas, but there are risks, and I’m balancing that with the payoff. 

Fresh eggs versus possible chicken massacre: strangely, it’s not an easy choice.

The Egg

The egg.  The French are known for being wizards of uplifting this humble item to culinary heights.  After all, pages and pages have written about the French Omelet and how to achieve it in all its perfection.  But there is so much more than that.  There’s l’oeuf frit, l’oeuf mollet, sabayons, quiches, custards, soufflés, and the list goes on and on.  It’s not just a breakfast item in France; it’s more of… well, it’s just more.  The cookbook La Bonne Cuisine D’Aujoud’hui, which has dedicated 22 pages to eggs very simply states it, “There is not good cooking without eggs: get to know them well.”

L’oeuf frit, or fried egg, was even part of the most prestigious cooking competition in France: Meilleurs Ouvriers de France 2010.  Considered part of a lost cuisine that is being re-found, l’oeuf frit is a 3-dimensional piece of art that resembles more of a fluffy meringue than the slightly burned and runny disc cooked in the leftover bacon fat.  Then there is l’oeuf mollet, a type of pouched egg.  The cracked egg is swirled into boiling water so the white totally encompasses the yolk so it remains only partially cooked.  When executed correctly, the egg looks like a piece of fresh mozzarella.

I’ve tried reproducing both of these, and while most of the results were eatable, they did not resemble the true end product.  I’ve been through dozens of eggs just trying to do what I’ve seen chefs effortlessly achieve in less than a minute.  Of course, I haven’t seen the decades of practice behind that simple act, but it’s an egg for Pete’s sake, it should be simple.  However, I have learned the egg is complicated in its simplicity.

France’s cuisine will always be synonymous with the egg; it continues to grace the menus of starred chefs who very proudly elevate it into the spotlight.  That said, I think it’s only fitting to end with what Thomas Moore once stated, “Yet, who can help loving the land that has taught us Six hundred and eighty-five ways to dress eggs?”

The French Omelet

A French omelet is a light, savory, and delicate dish.  Simply little more than eggs, butter, and a tiny bit of filling, it is ultimately pristine with its unblemished golden yellow color.

An omelet made in France is often scrambled eggs made with any leftovers in the refrigerator, from rice to spaghetti to meat and vegetables.   It is the complete opposite of what took Julia Child 11 pages to explain about omelet making in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Therefore, when Christophe announced “an omelet” for dinner, I was quite surprised to find parts of my roast chicken and rice from last night’s dinner floating in the scrambled eggs.  He explained, “A family style omelet is a way of using leftovers without serving the same thing twice.  They are quite popular and I ate them all the time growing up.  It’s a way of cleaning out the fridge.”  Great, but I was disappointed not to get the creamy rolled eggs everyone raves about.

In all honesty, this is a clever use of what’s at hand, but, I was hesitant when Christophe plopped the plate down in front of me.  When I was growing up, my leftovers were served to me as they were made, and with eight around the dinner table, this sometimes meant bartering for the leftover meatloaf instead of the tuna casserole.  That is how I knew leftover, and that is how I liked it – at long as I didn’t get the tuna casserole. 

Truth be told, Christophe’s omelet was quite tasty, but one day, I wouldn’t mind being served an omelet à la Julia Child, just to say, “Yes, I have eaten a French omelet and not just an omelet made in France."  After all, no other country I know has elevated the gastronomic bar so high that a masterpiece dinner can be created from a single, humble egg.