A taster of a little parable about appellations – and eggs…



Once upon a time, in the little village of Arse-Ende-of-Knowhere, in the county of Generallydullbutlovelyinpartshire, there was an elderly farmer called McDonald whose hens laid unusually tasty eggs. These eggs were so good, in fact, that local well-informed chefs and gourmets sought them out. No-one could say precisely why Old McDonald’s eggs were so good. Some suggested that it was because of the cool weather in his bit of the valley. Others credited his particular breed of hens or the quality of his corn. And then there were those who said that it was simply to do with the loving care McDonald devoted to his flock, especially after the departure of Mrs McDonald with a handsome Japanese chicken sexer. Whatever the explanation, it did not take long before McDonald’s neighbours – some of whose eggs were nearly as good as McDonald’s – decided that they wanted a slice of the action… 

To find out what happened next, you’ll have to go here to Timatkin.com


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