This is an account given by the wife of a Carpathian mountains farmer, told literally: I've never eaten an egg bought in a shop. I can't. First I have to get to know a hen's owner. I need to know whether he's a good farmer. Does he care for his animals and poultry, is the poultry-house clean? What does he feed to his hens, do they have a large garden and enough space to walk around and dig in the earth? I need to know whether the hens have a cock, what age he is and whether he's in good shape. Whether he does a good job and whether he isn't for example too old. I simply need to know the hen the eggs of which I'll be eating personally. Is the hen in good health, is she young, isn't she too old? I need to know her habits: I take a close look at her first. I also want to know how the hen reached the farmer. How long he's had her, whether he likes her and is satisfied with her. Whether she had chicks and how she took care of them, was she a good mother to them?If so, I trust the hen. And only then will I eat her eggs with pleasure.

It's time we went back to the origins of things. Everything took its beginning from an egg and we shouldn't underestimate the wisdom of mountaineers. Happy Easter!

[ wersja polska ]