I was recently given something I have always wanted to try. Mostly because they are semi-exotic, partially because they are so cute, fully because I love to try everything once. In light of a particular writing style when the author announces the ending in the very beginning, I am happy to report they did not disappoint even though I almost ruined them.
Enough of the intrigue and mystery in pronouns – on to the specifics.
More specifically, quail eggs that were in the identical pattern of my counter tops.
Chaos ensued from the moment I started prepping for breakfast. Firstly, I had to do a lot of cleaning for this photo session to happen. Second – upon pulling the quail eggs out of the refrigerator, I naturally knocked two of my farmers market chicken eggs out and on to the ground. My dogs got a little extra treat this morning and I feel a twinge of guilt for wasting two precious, and expensive, farmer’s treats.
There is nothing better than melting butter.
As the pan heated, my excitement and my nervousness resulting from cooking something rare and lovely heightened. My excitement turned to frustration when I soon realized I should have googled “how to successfully crack open and empty a quail egg shell” instead of “how to cook quail eggs”. These little buggers, despite how adorable they are, have extreme defenses against being consumed. The shell is the thickest I’ve ever attempted to break into, once the shell cracked, it shattered making it even more fun to manipulate the continued process of getting the edible part of the egg extracted from the outer protective layers. Next, the outer and inner membranes, or the transparent sack that hold and protect the egg – (I just learned that, don’t feel bad) – is 1. not transparent and 2. is about 10 times more difficult to tear than a normal chicken egg. In fact most of the time one doesn’t even notice that membrane in a normal egg. I was attempting to handle these little loves with a gentle touch, when in fact I needed to match them in their strength. I know for next time.
The pan was definitely warm by the time I wrangled these soldiers into secession. Maybe a little too hot, because I may have over cooked them a tad. The yolk didn’t run like my 4-year-old self still squeals for joy upon viewing.
However! They were still the prettiest addition to my breakfast plate – which is quite the honor with how I feel about avocado. They were still as adorable out of the shell as inside. And they were still delicious. Though small, they were mighty from beginning to end. From the dense shell and membrane, to the two bites each I had the pleasure of enjoying. The yolk was thick and rich and the whites were soft and fluffy.
I would not say no another experience with these delightful little delicacies.