In one place there was a priest who liked eggs. He would often eat them boiled, or fried, or done up in various recipes. Eggs are not vegetarian, of course, and they were not supposed to be eaten in temples long ago. Besides that, this priest was very stingy, and would never let his acolyte eat anything so delicious. The acolyte, of course, wanted nothing more than to eat something that good.
One morning when the acolyte saw a plate with a yellow egg dish sitting on the the priest's tray, he asked about it directly. "Osho-san, just what is that yellow thing on your tray? I've never eaten anything like that."
The priest answered just as directly, "Oh, this is called lemon miso. It's not for children."
The acolyte knew all along that it was made from eggs.
The next day, when he went out with the priest, he saw a chicken. It had roosted in a neighbor's hedge, and was flapping its wings and cackling, "Kokke kokou."
The acolyte dropped a little behind the priest, then stopped and called out loudly, "Osho-san, Osho-san! There's the lemon miso's father cackling in the hedge! What's going on?"
That embarrassed the priest. "That's enough," he scolded. "Come along, We'll be late for the funeral."