Today’s a good day to play with photo apps.
The girls took one look at today’s snow fall and refused to leave the coop. In lieu of chickens, today we have an egg each from Strawberry Sally and Blackbird. Plopped in the snow, they reminded me of Mr. Potato Heads, so I added Groucho Marks glasses, nose, and ‘stache.
How do they look?
Yes, even in the winter my chickens are laying. The light in the coop helps a lot, but frankly they lay more when they get to run around the yard and cluck at the snow. Either way, I had 27 eggs in the ‘fridge tonight which means I needed to bake something.
Saturday mornings my kids will forget to eat breakfast until about lunchtime unless I try to adhere to their school-day schedules and pull them into the kitchen. Given that I’m not much of a morning person and I like to practice yoga on Saturday mornings, this requires a bit of planning.
An easy solution for both problems is Southern Baked French Toast. I don’t know why it’s a Southern Dish, since it seems to be a practical use of pain perdu (old, stale bread) in just about every country for millennia. It must be all the cream, sugar and pecans that many recipes require.
The girls are almost 5 months old now!
While technically, our coop is big enough for 4 chickens, our 3 love to run around our yard.
The chicky-doodles are not laying yet, but we’ve been lucky enough to enjoy eggs from our friends and family and know how much better they taste. I’m not the only one:
It’s a huge difference. In color and in taste,” says chef Paul Keevil of Millie’s Diner in Richmond. “When you cook them, they glow. They’re just iridescent in the pan. Each one is different because every chicken has eaten different things. And the taste is just night and day.
So I’m hesitant to keep the girls cooped up. (Yes, pun intended).
BUT…Jim was cleaning the yard with the dog’s pooper-scooper because we’ve had too many “Ewww, I just stepped in…” lately. Let’s see what he builds next weekend.
Until then we’ll step carefully.