08/10/2025
🙌🏻 🍳 🪺
You know, the older I get and the more I see what happens behind closed doors, the harder it gets to eat something that’s lost its soul.
I can’t eat a store-bought egg. We went for a Wimpy breakfast a few weeks back and I just sat there staring at that pale little yolk on my plate, thinking of the hens that laid it. You can taste the sadness. You can see the sadness. Once you’ve had a proper egg from a happy, free-range hen — one that spends her days scratching in the dirt, dust-bathing in the sun, and eating grass and bugs — you’ll never look back.
Just look at the picture. The one on the left is the store-bought egg. That washed-out yellow yolk? That’s a diet of pellets and confinement. The one on the right, the deep orange beauty? That’s sunshine, greens, worms, and freedom. And that color means nutrition — more omega-3s, more vitamins, more antioxidants, more life.
Battery hens, on the other hand… it’s heartbreaking. Crammed into wire cages where they can’t even spread their wings. Artificial lights tricking their bodies into laying nonstop. Many never touch grass or see daylight. Their beaks are trimmed so they don’t peck each other out of stress. That’s not farming — that’s a factory. And that’s the reality behind most of the eggs on supermarket shelves.
So, when you buy your eggs, think about where they come from. Somewhere nearby, there’s a small-scale farmer, maybe even a neighbor, who lets their hens live like hens should. Support that person. You’ll taste the difference — your body will feel it — and your conscience will be lighter too.
Once you’ve had that deep orange yolk from a free, happy hen… there’s no going back.