I have been feeling a little stressed out at work this month (the whole year thus far). We have some ambitious goals and that means there’s a lot to get done. I’m pretty sure time is moving faster than it used to and that means we have to work harder and smarter. But all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy… so we work hard and play hard (hope there are enough adages here for everyone). Seriously though- we try and make work a fun place. Stuck in a rut? Do something crazy. We ate an egg. A big egg.

The backstory is weird and complicated. Tim, Adam and I had discussed getting a pet penguin. Somehow that segued into trying to get a penguin egg from a zoo. And that turned into a conversation about eating eggs. What would a penguin egg taste like? Turns out you can’t really get a penguin egg, but you can get an Ostrich egg. Before I knew it Tim had a “small” ostrich egg on it’s way to the HQ.

For the record a “small” ostrich egg is huge. It’s the equivalent of 24 chicken eggs. This is only the second time I have had the pleasure of holding an egg this big. Since it was chilly out we wheeled our grill over to warehouse three (no active inventory) and commence the cooking indoors. First we fried up some bacon (sadly from the common pig and not the hippo bacon we longed for).  We then spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how to hack into the egg. After a failed (and smelly) Dremmel attempt we poked holes in both sides of the egg and used an air compressor to force the yolk and white out. It sort of worked…

… but eventually Adam had to give the egg mouth to shell (it’s really all about the seal). With the contents in the skillet we one step closer to our goal of eating a not-chicken egg. It took awhile to get the egg cooked up but it smelled good and, aside from a texture difference, looked like the scrambled eggs we all know and love. This is the plate I scooped for myself (probably about 4 chicken eggs worth). No turning back.

Size aside, there are definite difference between ostrich and chicken eggs. I’d describe both the texture and taste as “regular eggs infused with grit” (as in grits that one might eat in the south). While the egg was good I’m not sure I’d ever eat them in lieu of chicken eggs given the taste difference and price (they are not cheap). We took the cooked egg around work and forced it onto anyone we could find. Horizons were broadened. Hearts were warmed. And ostrich was shared. Thanks to Adam’s efforts next week we’ll be eating a swan egg.

And that’s how you run a company. With protein.