It’s no yolk

JCC MetroWest observed Heart Healthy Month in February, as it usually does, by encouraging members to write their sentiments on red and white valentine cutouts and pin them to a bulletin board just outside the physical fitness center.

The theme of the display was What Makes Your Heart Happy. In the past, I’ve studiously avoided this type of group wishfulness, but this time, a sudden, whimsical impulse seized me, one strong enough to cause my hand to reflexively scribble a thought on a cutout and tack it up.

I expected to have been removed by the following day and was surprised to see it still standing amid more than 100 other offerings.

There, awash in a sea of romantic, poetic, aspirational, and just plain goofy expressions for health, wealth, and happiness was my bargain-basement request: A plea for collapsing egg prices. And here I was, a headline writer for more than 40 years, not even taking the time to work in obvious puns, something along the lines of I’m hard-boiled enough to hope egg prices crack and that’s no yolk.

What made me do it? My message was devoid of anything remotely romantic or tender, definitely more evocative of Humpty Dumpty than a “Red. Red. Rose.” Perhaps it originated with a persistent feeling that the Ides of March had arrived early this year, unleashed by the unfolding nihilism and narcissism in Washington. Or, borrowing from T.S. Eliot’s “Waste Land,” maybe it anticipated April being the cruelest month, that the national chaos would only deepen.

(Yet I must temper this, since Passover is celebrated in April, and Passover, while intense and not without cruelties, is really about liberation.)

But back to eggs. Prices are not likely to moderate or fall soon. Bird flu continues to devastate the domestic poultry population, lowering the number of healthy hens from about 350 million to below 280 million. (These numbers are gleaned from news reports and websites, and I don’t pretend they approach the accuracy of a census count.)

This is happening just as Trump 2.0 kicks in with massive job cuts gutting the Centers for Disease Control, the National Institutes of Health, and the FDA, all key agencies involved in combatting the scourge. The firings, carried out at the bidding of the president’s designated henchman, Elon Musk, are devoid of finesse, forethought, and even a shred of compassion. (Consider also the logic of 6,000 terminations at the IRS during the height of tax season.)

The Department of Agriculture says it will try to ease the shortfall by increasing egg imports from (are you ready for this?) Turkey, among other countries. But bird flu is raging worldwide and doesn’t respect national borders. And let’s not forget how Trump’s erratic, reckless, and destabilizing tariff policies have worked so far. The imports may become scrambled before they even get to the frying pan and go directly into the fire.

Additionally, there’s a non-pathogenic dimension to egg price shell shock, and it’s called corporate profiteering. As highlighted in a recent New York Times report, one producer, Cal-Maine Food, controls nearly 20 percent of the market. The company saw its revenues triple to nearly a billion dollars last year. After industry consolidations, there are just a handful of firms that account for more than half of domestic production. A similar situation exists in the meatpacking industry, where four giants dominate 75 percent of U.S. sales.

And going from the macro to the granular, at the other end of the food-chain equation are neighborhood bodegas in the metropolitan area that are now selling eggs singly, or three for $2.99, to their hard-pressed customers.

But let’s not confine it to this one item. Steep, baked-in price increases beyond what shoppers already have endured are forecast for coffee, chocolate, and olive oil. The underlying causes and markets may vary, but they do have in common the unifying elements of global warming, post-covid supply chain hiccups, political instability, and increasing demand worldwide.

Coffee futures recently hit a 50-year high, and not necessarily to the benefit of small growers scattered around the globe. Drought severely impacted crops in Brazil and Vietnam, the two largest exporting countries, with the former producing more sought-after arabica beans and the latter growing the less costly robusta varieties.

As the New York Times recently reported, farmers are racing to cultivate more drought-resistant, climate-adaptive plants. But it requires time for the new methods to take root and for resilient crops to mature. Meanwhile, growers are caught in the classic supply-demand bind and fighting for their existence.

I recently renewed my order for custom pods from Free Rein Coffee Co. of Texas. The price, while high, is holding — at least for now. This outfit features such brands as American Dirt, Heavy Spur, and Homestead, so it’s easy to pick up on its theme. My friends who buy exotic concoctions from Starbucks, Dunkin’, or any of the coffee bars and boutiques that seem to be percolating everywhere are likely to grumble louder (but keep paying) as higher costs are passed along to them.

Prepare also for similar shocks with pretty much all grades of olive oil. Prolonged droughts and wildfires in the Iberian Peninsula and Italy have cut deeply into orchard cultivation and production. Israel, a significant grower, consumer, and exporter of olives, with some trees centuries old, is grappling with shortages brought on not only by climate change but by the demands and shifting priorities of war.

Finally, consider the fate of the humble chocolate bar or the elegant hand-crafted truffle and every cocoa delight in between. Again, drought and climate conditions have buffeted key producing countries in West Africa, South America, and Indonesia, with political instability hovering over many of these regions. Hershey’s says it places its chocolate orders a year in advance, so it might be able to hold the line for a while, but that hikes are inevitable.

Taken together, this adds up to more than just higher costs and shortages. It speaks powerfully if inconveniently to the global challenge of resource management in the face of persistent climate change and growing worldwide demand. The price we really pay for these comestibles is not so much the one listed on grocery shelves, but the value we assign to making often difficult decisions that will allow the planet to catch its breath and remain productive.

By the time you read this, the JCC will have replaced February’s heart cutouts with information on March’s National Nutrition Month. The bulletin board is now covered with pamphlets on subjects ranging from healthy snacking to plant-based nutrition, and I plan on carefully digesting the information.

Problem is, I still want my morning cup(s) of java, eggs over light, a salad dressed with olive oil, and a chocolate bar whenever.

Jonathan E. Lazarus is a retired editor of the Star-Ledger and a copy editor for the Jewish Standard/New Jersey Jewish News.