Growing up in Vietnam we ate duck eggs, salted duck eggs. I
don’t remember if we ate chicken eggs or not.
If I did, it didn’t leave a lasting memory. But I loved the salted duck eggs. I don’t remember how the salted duck eggs were
made, but I remember that at the market, the eggs were covered with black
salted charcoal and were always displayed in a big bin. You would never know how big the eggs would be
because they were all cover in thick salted charcoal. You can only see the size of the eggs when
you clean the charcoal off. As I recall, most of the duck eggs were much bigger
than chicken eggs. My mother used to
clean the black charcoal from the eggs before she boiled them. The white part of the duck eggs had a strong
salty taste and the yellow yolk was firm in texture, but not as salty.
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| Leo and a chicken egg! |
Today I went for a run. Somewhere during my run I developed a craving
for salted duck eggs with long grain white rice. Sometimes while running I put a whole sea salt
rock in my mouth but even that salt rock doesn’t have the same salty taste I
remember from salted duck eggs. I
haven’t eaten a single salted duck egg since we moved to America but, out of
the blue, I developed a craving for salted duck eggs. I wonder if the salted duck eggs I craved
during my run would actually taste as good as I remember, or I was just imagining
how good and salty they were? If I were to eat one now would I be transported
back all teary to my childhood in Saigon or would I be spitting it out while
making a disgusted face? I’m now on a mission to find salted duck eggs. I’ll eat them in celebration of my life in
the States, 41 years this month.
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| Leo distracted by a butterfly |
