The epic search for an egg bowl

On a recent trip into town a search that has been going on for an age ended. I love eggs, they’re wonderful little packages of goodness, and I’m lucky enough to get mine from a friend who keeps chickens, so I know they’re from free range, happy chucks.

Its the storage of these little natural parcels of goodness that poses a problem. I never keep them in a fridge, it’s the manufacturers of fridges that added egg shaped holders, which convinced people to store their eggs in this manner. The shell is permeable and when stored in a fridge it absorbs the smells inside, so if you have fish in there, you’ll taint the eggs with a fishy smell. Also the cold temperature damages the cuticle allowing water vapour into the egg and this in turn breaks the yolk down. Ask yourself this: When you buy your eggs are they in the refrigerators in the supermarket?… No.

So I always make sure my eggs are stored at room temperature, and in summer they are covered to prevent flies landing on them; there’s that pesky permeable shell again. I used to store them in one of those chicken shaped wire baskets, however as it had been crushed in a house move back in February 2012, so it ended up in the recycling and the search for a new receptacle began. Over the past twelve months I’ve scoured kitchen shops for another suitable storage solution, but without luck. Next it was the kitchenware departments of major stores, but I had no joy there. Eventually it was the turn of charity shops to be visited by a wide-eyed-loon searching for… Well, here’s the rub, I wasn’t sure what it was I was looking for. All I knew, was when I found it I’d know.

I was browsing through the window of a charity shop in a small town nearby: A place I’ve only visited once before. I was taken by a picture inside the shop, so went inside. I was looking at the framed print when something on a shelf caught my eye. The picture was soon forgotten and a voice inside my head said, “It’s the egg bowl.” There it was, my twelve month search was over. I 100_5402handed over my £1.49 and left the shop with a smile.

Of course, I can understand that many people would think that I’ve spent a lot of time and energy on something that doesn’t really change my life, I’d agree, but when you have odd flashes of OCD, like I do, getting it right means I’m happy.

Heaven forbid, I ever let you see the ordered shelves of my kitchen cupboards, or I told you about the different types of cutlery for different types of meals saga, that plays out regularly in our house.

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