My girlfriend bought the eggs. It was at a big supermarket chain but I rather not say which one. She brought them home on Friday evening and Saturday morning I wanted to make crèpe for us. Crèpe, not pancakes, that’s been our Saturday morning ritual since Christmas.
I pulled the pack of eggs from the fridge. I opened it on the counter and took three eggs out. The first one was fine, or at least it looked fine, and went straight in the mixing bowl.
The second one felt much lighter but I didn’t think about that. I cracked it open on the side of the bowl like the first. The shell shattered into a lot of tiny pieces. It was empty.
It was a bit surprised but I figured that could happen somehow. Maybe the chicken was sick or something. I felt a bit disgusted but I didn’t think much about it.
I fished the shell out of the bowl and took the third one. It felt normal again. I bumped it carefully against the side of the bowl and had to try it four or five times until it finally cracked. The white and yolk flowed out perfectly normal. I examined it to make sure, but there was nothing wrong about it, there wasn’t even a fetus like you sometimes get with organic eggs.
But I needed three eggs. Without much thought I took another one from the carton and instantly froze. It was too light. I felt the shell give in under my fingers. Continue reading