I remember the day my step mom brought home eggs from the farm rather clearly because, like usual, my sister and I refused to eat anything that wasn’t purchased at a grocery store. I mean, ewwwww…. fresh farm eggs?! Ha. Yea right. I remember my dad trying to convince us to eat them and to look at the color of the yolks. We still refused… until the one day we ate them unknowingly. Now, I’m pretty sure my tastebuds have developed a true sense of… taste… over the last few years because at that time I couldn’t taste a difference.
So here I am, 8 years later, living in this tiny (and often forgotten) country called Moldova. I remember my host mom from my first site pointing out the difference in the color of the yolks from her fresh eggs in comparison to the eggs purchased at the store. Yes, there is quite a difference between the yellows- the store bought eggs look more like a yellow Crayola marker, and the farm fresh eggs are more like the Crayola crayon called goldenrod. And the taste…. oooooohhhhh the taste! It’s so significantly different I can’t even explain it.
Now that I’m in Chisinau, away from the fresh grown products of my host family, I have to fend for myself. I woke up rather hungry and needing some food so I went to the grocery store and bought some tomatoes, onions, and eggs. The tomatoes had no taste. The onions hardly burned my eyes and were missing their usual kick, and the eggs were the Crayola marker yellow and also lacking much of a taste. I miss the taste, and I know when I go back to America I’m going to miss it even more and I am not going to want to pay the outrageous prices for organic foods.
Mark my words- I’m going to have my own garden. Yes, me, the girl who loves the city is willing to give up the dream of living in a city to add taste and flavor to my life. And I’m going to have chickens.