Just when I thought I had it all figured out… I've been so all about la vida locavore—loving summer, hitting the farmer's markets and mom-and-pop farm stands that use the honor system. Not only do I leap at the chance to promote good karma, but Saturday morning I picked up bag of potatoes for a buck. Seriously. $1.
For ages now I've been getting my eggs from any of several farms up the road. Sometimes they're so fresh, I have to wait for them to get cleaned off. Oh, and those half-billion eggs recalled last August? Didn't bat an eye. Not even when my beloved came home in a panic. “Don't worry,” I told him. “We're safe. Come on, I'll take you to visit the hens who laid those eggs you had over easy this morning.”
He was relieved. I was…let's just say it—a little smug.
The Universe just sent a curve ball whizzing past my head.
I've never made any secret of my love for eggs. Not just from those happy, free-wandering chickens—all eggs: quail eggs, duck eggs—even one very impressive ostrich egg. Freakin' yum.
Can delicious irony rival a perfectly poached duck egg nestled atop creamy corn grits and a side of sautéed kale and red onions? If it can, then here it is… albeit served up cold.
All of a sudden and out of the proverbial blue, I'm allergic to eggs.
Didn't I have a wheat thing? Didn't I just give up toast?
Does it matter that I buy wheat flour that is locally grown and milled or that my eggs come from the farmer up the road?
No, says my new friend, Ana Phylaxis.
Great. Now what?
Tags: egg allergy, food allergy, Healthy Eating, wheat allergy