Quail
Then an herald cried aloud, To you it is commanded, O People, nations, and languages.
KJV Daniel 3:4
Before entering the local indoor farm market, I always stop and read what's written on a large sandwich board. Usually a listing of vegetables takes up the entire space, but for the past few weeks the same message appears in black ten inch high letters— NOW CARRYING OUR OWN QUAIL EGGS.
This message, or proclamation demands a royal herald wearing a tabard. It resonates. It calls forth our attention. Each word carries weight.
NOW, not yesterday—at this moment, It indicates that prior to this moment the quail eggs came from a different source—if, indeed, the market had anything save chicken eggs. Does this mean that chickens are out and quails are in?
CARRYING: Within the confines of this market. We, the consumer, no longer need to go elsewhere—perhaps long distances away from home, or online, to purchase quail eggs.
OUR: This is family. We raise the quails, feed them, nurse them through difficult times. Recognize their benefits. We have read about their superiority and coddle our quails.
QUAIL EGGS: Look them up and compare them to ordinary chicken eggs. Their nutritional value soars when compared to the ordinary egg. Despite their small size they outscore chicken eggs on every measurement —except size.
Photographers take their photos for health magazines. Health gurus search for recipes for these speckled gems. Pickle them. Fry them. Scramble them. I even found recipes for Quail Egg and Prosciutto Pizza and Smoked Haddock and Quail Egg.
My question: what type of quail? According to the Britannica — "Quail, any of 130 species of small, short-tailed game birds..."
Even if I don't succumb to the latest health craze and purchase a dozen for one omelet —they are very small—I might purchase a few because of their fascinating egg shell patterns. Who knows, I may even fry up a couple and make a quail McMuffin.
KJV Daniel 3:4
Before entering the local indoor farm market, I always stop and read what's written on a large sandwich board. Usually a listing of vegetables takes up the entire space, but for the past few weeks the same message appears in black ten inch high letters— NOW CARRYING OUR OWN QUAIL EGGS.
This message, or proclamation demands a royal herald wearing a tabard. It resonates. It calls forth our attention. Each word carries weight.
NOW, not yesterday—at this moment, It indicates that prior to this moment the quail eggs came from a different source—if, indeed, the market had anything save chicken eggs. Does this mean that chickens are out and quails are in?
CARRYING: Within the confines of this market. We, the consumer, no longer need to go elsewhere—perhaps long distances away from home, or online, to purchase quail eggs.
OUR: This is family. We raise the quails, feed them, nurse them through difficult times. Recognize their benefits. We have read about their superiority and coddle our quails.
QUAIL EGGS: Look them up and compare them to ordinary chicken eggs. Their nutritional value soars when compared to the ordinary egg. Despite their small size they outscore chicken eggs on every measurement —except size.
Photographers take their photos for health magazines. Health gurus search for recipes for these speckled gems. Pickle them. Fry them. Scramble them. I even found recipes for Quail Egg and Prosciutto Pizza and Smoked Haddock and Quail Egg.
My question: what type of quail? According to the Britannica — "Quail, any of 130 species of small, short-tailed game birds..."
Even if I don't succumb to the latest health craze and purchase a dozen for one omelet —they are very small—I might purchase a few because of their fascinating egg shell patterns. Who knows, I may even fry up a couple and make a quail McMuffin.
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