Fifteen dozen oval wonders, staples of the culinary world, set out one morning from Point Reyes, headed to the late, great Bubba’s Diner, then located in downtown San Anselmo. It was mid-morning and the place was packed, and as the only entrance was the front door, everyone took notice. The eggs were carried past the soda fountain, down the thin aisle behind the counter stools and set down on the end of the faded linoleum counter. 

The tall brown box had become the center of attention. The chef was the only one who didn’t look up; he didn’t need to because he knew everything that was going on around him. The rush had just finished, and he’d cleared the wheel, finished all the orders and was still in the zone. With deliberate inattention to the delivery man, his focus fell on the box. 

In one quick motion he opened the folded top, whipping away the protective top carton to reveal the multi-colored eggs. Without looking, he snatched a clean coffee saucer off the counter, the other hand gently picking up a large brown oval. With one hand he cracked the shell on the table, opened it and let it slide onto the saucer. The room was silent. The chef raised the plate to eye level, and smiled a broad smile. 

The white translucent bottom can only spread so far, held back by strands of protein; the bright-orange yolk stood high at attention. Two long steps put the chef in front of the griddle and a moment later came the sizzle of clarified butter applied to the flattop. The egg slid off the saucer and skittered onto the grill, so fresh it seemed to gain height as it sputtered and danced, turning into the bright-white base and yellow center in a glorious transformation taken for granted by those who have never enjoyed the absolute pleasure of an organic farm-fresh egg. He ordered five more cases a week.