Taylor - A Good Egg

An egg is the simplest and most versatile of ingredients. Nutritious, rich in protein, low in fat, perfect for a quick brunch, essential for baking and key to so many starters, main courses and puddings, there is something magical about the humble egg.

Eggs are cheap and available to us all particularly to those who keep chickens. Inspired to find the most imaginative ways to make the best use of her hens steady supply, and at the same time use as much fruit and vegetables from her garden as possible, Genevieve Taylor has created a years worth of recipes that are shaped by the changing seasons and are spontaneous, unfussy and joyful. Her passion for food that tastes and looks gorgeous, whether for every day or for parties, shines through each and every recipe and photograph in this wonderfully handy book.

Move over omelette and custard, here are tortillas and tarts, pasta and pies, sauces and ice-creams, curries and clafouti and a couple of cakes for every month of the year.

As an author and food stylist, Genevieve Taylor splits her time between food writing and creating beautiful food for photography.

She lives in Bristol with her husband and two children, along with her chickens (the girls), two dogs and two kittens. A Good Egg is loosely based on her blog: www.genevievetaylor.blogspot.com

Genevieve is also the author of STEW!, SOUP! and Marshmallow Magic.

A Good Egg is a book very close to my heart. Creating it has not been just a simple process of writing recipes; it also tells a tale about how my family and I are living our lives. My husband Rob and our beautiful children, Izaac and Eve, deserve my enormous thanks and endless love for letting me share some of our stories. Without their love, not to mention tolerance of my incessant multi-tasking, it would all have been so much harder.

Susanna Wadeson, my editor at Transworld, has been truly wonderful throughout; intuitive, supportive and encouraging. Huge thanks, Susanna, for hearing my voice in a vast sea of others.

Everyone at Transworld has been a great support and A Good Egg is a real collaborative effort. To Lynsey Dalladay, my publicist, thanks for your energy and enthusiasm. Thanks to Mari Roberts, my copy editor, for nipping and tucking my words so eloquently. Cover designer Tom Poland, designer Anthony Cohen, design manager Phil Lord and production manager Geraldine Ellison thank you for making it a thing of beauty as well as practicality.

Big thanks to Kate Hordern, my agent, for all her straight-talking advice and positivity throughout. The beautiful photos of my garden and food were taken by Jason Ingram, a truly talented photographer who was instantly in tune with my vision. Thanks, Jason, for making it all look so delicious.

The germination of many of my recipes starts with distant memories from childhood, and for that my mum deserves many thanks, not to mention a massive hug, for sowing the seeds all those years ago. Friends, old and new, thank you for being willing guinea pigs at my table. Special thanks to Jo Ingleby, my cooking buddy, whose knowledge and advice I often seek, but thanks mainly for the wine, the fun and the laughter.

SPRING IS A season of mixed emotions, the weather one day teasing us with a little warm sun, the next day plunging us back into the cold again. Cruelly, snow often seems to come in March, just as we feel we have finally come through the tunnel of another long winter. So eating in spring can be an up-and-down affair, cooking following closely the variable moods of the moment. With the arrival of the chickens I find myself tracking the minute changes in the garden that indicate spring is coming, and this brings me immense joy as I plan for the growing season ahead.

There comes a moment when I finally breathe a quiet sigh of relief, realizing that spring is here: the new season has begun. The flower buds on the magnolia stellata outside my desk window become so plump and fluffy they look like they might burst open at the merest touch. In the woods I spot the first shoots of wild garlic peeping through the woodland floor, tantalizing me with how delicious they will be in a few weeks time. A little later, the buds on the wisteria have grown and differentiated to the point where I can tell which are going to be leaves and which will turn into precious, headily scented flowers. This, for me, marks the true onset of spring. Change accelerates quickly afterwards.

This is also when I plant the first of the years seeds. Right now I have two types of chilli, Padrn and Cayenne, in a propagator under my desk. I also have a couple of trays of peas, and one of broad beans. Here they will benefit from the floor-length window as they germinate into life. There are no shoots yet but I check them every day, just in case. One morning they will surprise and delight me. Outside the overwintering edible plants are also making good progress now the days are lengthening. I notice the first dark buds appearing on the stems of the purple sprouting broccoli, indicating that soon, at last, there will be something to harvest. I planted plenty, taking a some-for-us, some-for-the-chickens approach to my sowing. Under its terracotta forcing pot, the rhubarb plant is slowly coming out of winter dormancy, its tight pink buds unfurling into crunched-up crinkly leaves. The bare branches of the grapevine show the merest of swellings just under the surface. Happily it wont be long before it too surges back into life.

The chickens sense change too. They seem more active, and are very perky and vocal when I go into the garden. Finally I take off the wooden boards that shelter half of their run from the worst of the winter weather, instantly giving them more air and sunlight, like opening up the shutters on a dusty room. Sadly for them, they cannot yet free-range in the garden. The tender and tasty shoots emerging all over the place would be devoured in seconds if I let the hens roam unwatched, and the garden would be finished before it had even got going. To compensate, I give the chickens extra treats. Deeply ferrous leaves from the cavolo nero, slightly past-it bananas and stale cake are all great favourites. Once the young plants are more established, the hens will be allowed some time to forage by themselves.

Springs recipes are about revitalizing and lifting the mood.

I first tasted pastis de Belm on holiday in Lisbon when I was a child, and so exquisite were they that I have not forgotten the taste nearly three decades later. Many, if not most, of my pleasurable memories centre around food. Lucky for me then that my mum, a single parent, worked exceptionally hard to take us on a foreign holiday as often as she could afford, opening our eyes wide to a wonderful edible world out there. For this I will always be grateful.

I distinctly remember the caf in which we ate the tarts: sombre waiters in stiff black and white uniforms, walls covered in blue-and-white-patterned ceramic tiles, the whirring ceiling fans and the hiss of the espresso machine, and most of all the tarts themselves. Crisp, flaky pastry filled to the brim with wobbly, vanilla-scented custard, the finishing touches a dusting of cinnamon and a caramelized top. So much more of a treat than our own English custard tarts, which were soggy and stodgy by comparison.