Okay — about six months ago, we got chickens. Six very cute hens that lay eggs for our breakfast and run around the yard in the afternoons.
I had a fear (what else is new?) that the dog and chickens can’t be friends. I was wrong. They play and have lots of fun together.
It’s not like I live on a farm. These are urban chickens.
And I’ve had fresh eggs for breakfast every day.
I won’t say that I’ve mastered omelette making, but I’m getting there. Nor have I mastered the frying of an egg over light with Pam spray without it ever breaking — but I do okay.
One of big treats growing up was when Mom made scrambled eggs with salami. So yesterday I got some salami and revisited my past, scambling eggs with salami. It wasn’t quite as good as Mom’s. I think she might have used real butter in addition to the grease that’s already in the salami (there was no talk of cholesterol back then). But it was a pretty great breakfast.
This morning, we had no bread in the house. That’s a good thing. Bread is my weakness. Every time I take action to lose weight, no matter what system I use, it always amounts to the same thing: I love bread and eat way too much of it.
I reacted to our bread shortage by going on a bit of a search through the kitchen cabinets. I noticed, in our cupboard, two large containers of oats — leftover from the days before we got the chickens. All these months with daily eggs has given me a one-dimensional view of breakfast.
Can oats sit around for six months and still be okay?
This reminded me of my father. He loved oatmeal and I have a childhood memory of him teaching me how to fix it.
Oats are filling — perfect if you’re hungry. Just a smattering in the bottom of the pot renders a huge bowl once cooked.
So today was a departure. Maybe we’ll have eggs and salami for dinner…