I smile in amusement as I write this little post. If not that Easter eggs are popping up every where, my thought would have been that Linda has bionic powers to see into my kitchen.
I just finished breakfast of partially burnt scrambled eggs offered by my daughter. We are learning to cook and I guess burning is part of the practice 🙂
I humbly ate the eggs with a thankful heart. Soon enough she will get the hang of it with practice.
I think fleetingly back to my growing up years and learning how to cook in my mother’s kitchen. Only God knows how many burnt pots of rice, yam, beans, soup, I had to go through before getting into it.
Eggs were treats back then, eaten mostly on Saturday and Sundays because we had to wait for our local, home bred chickens to lay enough of them and on some days during the week, they were stingy or lazy with the laying of the eggs.
It’s not like now, where trays and trays of different types of eggs are on display for customers to choose as many crates as they wish.
Back then, it used to be a delight to go to the chicken coop at the back and find a warm, just laid egg.
Occasionally we were blessed with seeing a little chick hatch from eggs that my grandma set aside.
How she knew the ones that would hatch is something that I never understood.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha