Have you ever wondered what four dozen eggs look like if you pile them all up?
My mom called me today and was like, Hey, I'm running late, so can you help me out with our contribution to the homeless shelter? I need you to pick up four dozen eggs and hard boil them for me. And my first thought was, "Goddamn, that's a lot of eggs."
Maybe this is because I live in a European city, where most of us live in apartments and do small rounds of shopping every couple of days, but 48 eggs seems like a s***load of eggs. An absurd number to cook at once in the comfort of your home.
But off we went to the store where, lo and behold, you can buy packages of 30 eggs! All in one box! Seriously though. Who needs 30 eggs at the same time? It seems like a lot, especially because in the United States all eggs are washed before they're sold, which means they need to be kept very well refrigerated and are thus even more inconvenient to store.
Of course, all food seems to come in comparatively enormous containers over here. Or at least, that's my impression whenever I first arrive. Over time my perception shifts. It begins to seem normal that groceries are sold in a space that could accommodate a couple of long-haul airplanes, and normal that you can buy detergent in a box so big, you require assistance to get it into the back of your car.
By the time I get back to Vienna I have grocery dysmorphia in the other direction. Our local grocery store, which is the size of a Texas gas station, seems positively adorable. I go around for a week thinking, "My, what cute little cans of tomatoes! I'll put them in my tiny basket next to my tiny tins of tuna, itty bitty wedges of cheese and my weeny little packages of unbelievably boring cereal. Aww, look at these wittle bitty loaves of bread!" After paying, quite often in cash, I skip back to my flat to play dry-goods tetris in the only cupboard we use for food.
Anyway. Now I'm off to help bake dozens of Christmas cookies that will sit around looking forlorn until some fool, and its always the same fool, makes the poor decision to eat them all. *Sigh*.
P.S. Look at me all updating this blog more than once every two weeks.
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| Look at the size of these packages of eggs. |
My mom called me today and was like, Hey, I'm running late, so can you help me out with our contribution to the homeless shelter? I need you to pick up four dozen eggs and hard boil them for me. And my first thought was, "Goddamn, that's a lot of eggs."
Maybe this is because I live in a European city, where most of us live in apartments and do small rounds of shopping every couple of days, but 48 eggs seems like a s***load of eggs. An absurd number to cook at once in the comfort of your home.
But off we went to the store where, lo and behold, you can buy packages of 30 eggs! All in one box! Seriously though. Who needs 30 eggs at the same time? It seems like a lot, especially because in the United States all eggs are washed before they're sold, which means they need to be kept very well refrigerated and are thus even more inconvenient to store.
 |
| 48! In one pot! Would you look at that. |
Of course, all food seems to come in comparatively enormous containers over here. Or at least, that's my impression whenever I first arrive. Over time my perception shifts. It begins to seem normal that groceries are sold in a space that could accommodate a couple of long-haul airplanes, and normal that you can buy detergent in a box so big, you require assistance to get it into the back of your car.
By the time I get back to Vienna I have grocery dysmorphia in the other direction. Our local grocery store, which is the size of a Texas gas station, seems positively adorable. I go around for a week thinking, "My, what cute little cans of tomatoes! I'll put them in my tiny basket next to my tiny tins of tuna, itty bitty wedges of cheese and my weeny little packages of unbelievably boring cereal. Aww, look at these wittle bitty loaves of bread!" After paying, quite often in cash, I skip back to my flat to play dry-goods tetris in the only cupboard we use for food.
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| This is how much my daughter cares about the stupendous number of eggs I'm boiling. |
Anyway. Now I'm off to help bake dozens of Christmas cookies that will sit around looking forlorn until some fool, and its always the same fool, makes the poor decision to eat them all. *Sigh*.
P.S. Look at me all updating this blog more than once every two weeks.
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