an egg memory (recipe: spanish tortilla with smoked paprika)

If you asked, I would tell you that I'm a city girl, and I'd not been around farm animals regularly until recently. But that's not entirely true. As I was picking up eggs this morning, the smell of straw mingled with rain and chickenshit rose up to me and suddenly I remembered the daycare center I'd attended for a few years as a child. There was a chicken coop there, a red-painted coop with red-feathered chickens.

Even then, I was afraid of the chickens. I hated having to collect the eggs, and thought it was weird how warm they were -- having only ever had eggs right out of the refrigerator. A little boy told me that chickens hated having their eggs stolen and if they caught me doing it they'd peck my eyes out. And somehow I'm still a bit nervous around chickens...

I also hated the eggs themselves. Because I'd never had brown eggs before, only white, I thought they tasted so completely different because they were different. They had such a strong, complex flavor compared to the scrambled eggs my parents would cook -- or, more frequently, the frozen eggs under cellophane in a convenient microwaveable breakfast.

(Incidentally, this daycare center was also where I learned to despise cottage cheese, a loathing that survives to this day.)


Every now and then, I'm still taken aback by the flavor of my ladies' eggs. Every now and then, I'm still put off. I was raised on the poles of blandness and hyperpalatibility, without much authentic flavor in between. I've had to train myself to enjoy real food -- the complexities and subtleties that are lost in processing.

After adopting a real food focus, some people say they've learned to hate processed "food-like substances," or that their bodies can no longer tolerate them. The latter is certainly true for me. I get sores in my mouth from the extreme saltiness of chips, my stomach protests the carbonation and high sugar content of soda, and I feel depressed and irritable after most restaurant meals.

But I still have serious nostalgia for the foods of my childhood. I can't remember the last time I ate something from the all-important -ito food group, but I can't help my positive associations with that wickedly salty carbohydrate-delivery system. On long trips I'm tempted by gummy bears, Almond Joys, Pringles. I remember sharing a big bag of Funyuns with friends while ditching class in the park across the street from my high school. The foods of my childhood included huge circles of white-flour tortillas with melted commodity cheese, heaping bowls of sugary cereal for a midnight snack, stashes of Cadbury Creme eggs.

I wouldn't necessarily eat these things now, but that doesn't mean I think they're disgusting. In fact, it's the opposite. These foods are carefully engineered to flip every evolutionary switch we possess, and however badly we might feel after or even while we eat them, they taste good to almost everyone. So I won't tell you that I have such a refined taste now that I can't even enjoy those nasty chemical-laden industrial products (though I do feel overwhelmed by their salt and sugar content). However, I remember very well how much they numb my senses to the flavors of whole foods, and I don't want to lose that appreciation.

I also remember those eggs, probably one of the only lovingly- and locally-produced foods I ate as a kid. I think of them the same way I consider the citrus fruits I didn't appreciate while growing up in Arizona, especially the grapefruit from my grandparents' tree. As a child, it made no sense to me to eat a fruit that isn't sweet. But I was delighted by my grandmother's sharp grapefruit spoons. It's fair to say that I learned to love grapefruit just so I could have my own set of grapefruit spoons. And now whenever I visit I haul home pounds and pounds of those fruits. Sometimes my grandfather even ships them to me for the holidays.

Every now and then I have a flash of insight into something I experienced as a child that, however slightly, shaped my aspirations. Like my grandfather's condiments. Being able to pick oranges from any street in my city. Surreptitiously tasting a dandelion leaf from my backyard. Reaching through the barbed-wire feedlot fence with one hand while covering my nose and mouth with the other, touching an animal's face and wondering how he could be happy standing in so much filth. Picking up my first book of herbal remedies because I'd fallen in love with eucalyptus trees.

Do you have memories like this, some seemingly insignificant formative experience?


All eight of our chickens are laying nearly every day now, and in addition to the two dozen eggs we buy from a friend every week, we never run out of eggs. So I've been able to experiment a bit more.

A Spanish tortilla is a baked egg dish with sliced or diced potatoes. It's extremely simple to make and absolutely delicious and satisfying. I served it with my favorite salad: arugula topped with red pears, a raw blue cheese from Pt. Reyes, and an equal blend of white wine vinegar and olive oil.

For all that, I was in a huge rush to get to class, and this whole thing didn't take more than 30 minutes. It's a perfect weeknight dinner, so perfect in fact that I made it again the next night. The second night I tried it with boiled potatoes instead, and I liked it this way much better.


Spanish Tortilla with Smoked Paprika
3 medium potatoes, sliced thinly
3 scallions, sliced
10 pastured eggs
1/2 t. smoked paprika
unrefined salt and black pepper, to taste

Preheat the broiler to high. Heat 2 T. olive oil in a 9" or 10"cast iron skillet. Cook the potatoes in a single layer, in two batches, over medium heat until soft and lightly browned, 3-5 minutes per side. (If you're in a hurry, you can cook the potatoes in two pans at the same time.)

Meanwhile, break the eggs into a large bowl and whisk in the paprika, a big pinch of salt, and two grinds of pepper. You can also prepare a salad during this time, occasionally piercing the potatoes to see if they're cooked through.

Brush the remaining oil in the pan all over the bottom and sides, adding another few drops if necessary. Return all of the potatoes to the pan and layer them in a scallop pattern. Scatter the scallions on top and pour the eggs over the whole thing. It's fine if a little bit of potato is sticking out.

Cook the tortilla over medium heat for about 5 minutes, until the edges begin to pull away from the pan. It will still be mostly wet on top. Put the pan under the broiler and cook it for 2-3 minutes, until the eggs are cooked through. Watch it carefully so the tortilla doesn't burn.

Let the pan stand for 5 minutes, then loosen the sides and invert the tortilla onto a cutting board. Slice and serve with salad. Enjoy!