We were in Dorset at the weekend. We bought, as we sometimes do, some produce from a stall by the roadside. Half a dozen eggs.
The best eggs I ever tasted came from Gill’s hens at Bangors Organic in Cornwall. Lad and I reminisced about breakfasting on Gill’s eggs. We anticipated poached egg heaven.
I went to make my lunch yesterday and got a shock: they weren’t ordinary eggs. They were huge. They were blue. Dinosaur eggs!
But no, they were duck eggs. Mallard, probably, according to my local greengrocer, who sells duck eggs. I felt uncertain what to do with them. He suggested cakes.
After an online trawl I found a recipe for duck egg lemon curd. I thought that if the duck eggs were a little strong, the lemon would disguise it.
My grandmother, who lived with us when I was growing up, and later my mum, made fabulous lemon curd. A big lemon curd tart was my favourite of the Yorkshire desserts I grew up with. I haven’t eaten it since my mum died.
The eggs worked out fine. The lemon curd tastes lovely. My partner, who is vegan, will have to miss out, but my mum would be happy to know that lad likes it.
Possibly even more than poached eggs.