Many people operate under the misconception that brown eggs are more nutritious than white ones. The purpose of this week’s post is to disavow you of that notion. In fact, the color of the shell has nothing to do with the contents of the egg.

Egg shell color is related to the breed of hen that laid the egg. In general, chickens with white feathers lay a white egg, and chickens with dark feathers lay a brown egg. Across the spectrum, however, there is a significant amount of variation.

My black and white Hamburgs lay a small, relatively angular egg, more cream-colored than chalky white. Such distinctiveness makes it easy to tell these eggs from the rest. In contrast, the gold-laced Wyandottes lay a very long, light brown egg with pink color tones, interestingly symmetrical from end to end so that, at first glance, the top and bottom are not always easy to distinguish from one other. Finally, the Golden Buffs lay enormous XXL-sized eggs, warm brown in color. These beauties are gigantic, so big that many of them, at least half, don’t fit in a standard egg carton. And if I do try to fit them in, the carton won’t close.

When you crack a fresh egg, whether white, cream, pink, beige, or brown, you can expect to see a yellow-orange yolk perched high above a clear, firm white. The very deep yellow yolk, practically orange, tells you that this nutritious egg came from a chicken whose diet consists of plenty of grass, bugs and worms. The color of the shell has absolutely no relation to what’s inside.

Just like with people.

A couple of weeks ago I was introduced to a particularly determined local businessman with type 2 diabetes. We joined a mutual friend for lunch together in a local restaurant known for 1) being accommodating, and 2) their great salads with lots of fresh ingredients. What makes this guy so interesting is the fact that he decided, on the week of his diagnosis, more than 10 years ago, that he was going to keep his blood sugars under control exclusively through diet.

He said that if he finds himself at a party or dinner or some other celebration with absolutely nothing he can eat, he says “I just ate” or “I’m getting over a little bug” or something similar. When he arrives home, he eats nutritious choices that he knows won’t spike his blood sugar. He told me how much it bothered him when he went to a benefit for diabetes once and all they served was soda and doughnuts. He withdrew his support for that organization.

If you’re one of the many people whose doctor’s sole advise has been to “go lose some weight and get some exercise” then here’s something you may find a bit more helpful. You can do what my new friend does: check your blood sugars 90 minutes after you eat. My new friend keeps his sugars on track by checking them up to eight times a day. I am pretty sure that he would check them twice that many times if that’s what it took to keep them in the normal range. That’s what I mean by determined.

This man knew more about the effect of food on blood sugar than any other individual I have ever met, patient or physician. He certainly knew more than I do. No one can trick him, because he knows. He knows exactly how much oatmeal will spike his blood sugars, to the teaspoon. He’s checked it over and over, and that’s that. He knows how to construct a salad that will satisfy his appetite without having to pay the dreaded price of high sugars, and so he digs in with relish. He knows that there is essentially no safe amount of mac ‘n’ cheese for him. He knows.

I was able to share one bit of information of which he was not aware. He didn’t realize that he could increase the amount of nutritious fats in his diet without compromising his blood sugar control. I recommended olive oil on his salads, a few slices of avocado, a sprinkle or two of sunflower seeds, some almonds, and so forth.

Yes, he’s been offered medications on many occasions, and even insulin, especially in the beginning, when he showed up with a blood sugar near 500. But that’s not his style. This guy has a long reputation of delivering on his professional promises, but I would say that the one he made to himself has been the most important of all.

What drives him? Apparently he grew up in the company of family members with diabetes, and saw for himself, firsthand, the gruesome consequences of uncontrolled blood sugars. This is what he told me: “There is no food in the world that I’d exchange for my feet or my kidneys.” Okay, I get it. He’s right, the stakes are really that high.

Remember that it’s not diabetes that’s the problem; it’s uncontrolled blood sugars. If you figure out how to keep your sugars normal, no matter what they call it and no matter how you do it, you’ll keep your risk of complications low, low, low. Once you figure out how to keep your sugars normal, then you are winning.

Once in a while, maybe if you aren’t feeling 100%, the only thing that seems appealing is a bowl of grains. Maybe it’s oats, or maybe it’s millet, or maybe bulgur. Then again you might feel like eating rice. You can take your pick.

Maybe you’ve lost your taste for spice and sour, in which case it’s nice to go for something sweet. It definitely feels good on your tongue when you can’t taste or smell anything. Not to mention if your tongue is sore. A drizzle of maple syrup might do the trick, or a heaping spoonful of stewed fruit, or maybe both.

Whether you eat a vegetarian, omnivore, plant-based, Mediterranean, or even Atkins or Paleo diet, once in a great while a bowl of grains is the thing. Atkins and Paleo? Are you kidding me? Well, actually, no. Sometimes you have to trust your body, and if that’s the only thing you want, then grain is what it’s gonna be. Quinoa and buckwheat are relatively high in protein, by the way. And buckwheat, also called kasha, contains no wheat, if you’re interested in that kind of thing.

For cooking times for all kinds of grains, visit delectable planet.

I’ve been thinking about knife skills, not just what they are, but why they are. If you take a cooking class, the chef starts by teaching knife skills, so they must be important, right? But why?

Last week I learned, in passing conversation, that cutting foods into smaller pieces increases the amount of moisture available for tasting. Moisture turns out to be a vehicle that carries flavor molecules into your taste buds. So the more moisture, the more flavor. And that explains the appeal of my dad’s chopped salad; the relatively small pieces of lettuce, tomato, onion and other ingredients markedly increase the amount of flavor (and mixing of flavors!) released with every bite.

How does Chef Ira create that magic? With his knife.

So I watched a whole bunch of youtube videos on knife skills. I learned all about weight and balance, about chopping and dicing, and about protecting my fingers by making them into the shape of a spider that crawls backward along the celery stalk while the knife rocks back and forth to form uniform, bite-size pieces. I learned to peel half an onion in 1 second flat, to tell the stem from the root, and then to use that root to keep the onion together as I slice and dice.

I watched a few videos about mincing garlic. Henceforth, I will mince garlic in an imaginary quarter-circle area. Then, when the bits of garlic begin to stray from the 90 proscribed degrees of intention, I will use the back of the knife to draw them back together. At least I’ll try.

Why, then, are knife skills so valuable? Because we use them to increase flavor. Have you ever tasted something so good that you put down your fork and sat still, concentrating on the flavor and allowing it to run over your tongue, fill your mouth, satisfy your soul? On those happy occasions when this happens, I never find myself searching the kitchen cupboard afterward for a little bite of something extra. I am already thoroughly satisfied. Knife skills are everything.