Eggs are good. To some, that is a controversial opinion. I may believe most eggs are good (the fried ones, the steamed ones, and even the devilled ones), but others may curl their lip at the runny yolk or the smooth texture or the high cholesterol eggs contain. So allow me to qualify it: eggs, as a general concept, are good. Eggs are vessels for new life, after all. Moreover, eggs are versatile, and can be seen in almost every dish. Eggs bring joy, especially during Easter. (The pagan and blasphemous version of Easter, that is. But since the Christianised version of Easter is also about rebirth and new life, is it that much of a stretch to connect it to eggs?)

In many ways, Pen & Palette is also an egg. It’s barely one year old, and in the process of growing and maturing. Frankly, it’s terrifying. Like one of those new-mother-simulations in elementary school, where you carry around a raw egg with you for an entire week, scared that if you press too hard it’ll crack and if you put it away it’ll rot. When we started this magazine, we wanted it to hatch into a chicken. And I was terrified – still am – that if I press too hard it’s crack, reduced to a yellow and white blotch on the ground. 

Maybe I was missing the point. Maybe eggs are good because a chicken brought it into the world, and laid it on a nest of grass and straw. Maybe eggs are good because it has the potential to be new life, or sustenance for another life, whether it takes the form of fried or scrambled or devilled. And perhaps this magazine is good too, simply for existing, and maturing, and growing. 

Spring is right around the corner. Outside your window, a rooster crows. There’s bacon in the skillet and coffee being poured into mugs. Somewhere, a chicken is laying an egg. And somewhere else, too, a new life is gazing upon the world.