One Egg That Feeds Eight.

Any guesses what this is?

A rock?  The top of Jeff's (now) bald head?  

(I did give Jeff a haircut today, but I've never cut his hair this close before.)

It's an ostrich egg.

Purchased by my dad, on the way home from the Wild Animal Park.

Of course.

Because he does these kinds of things.

Just one reason why I like him.

The big question is:  How (in the world) do you crack an ostrich egg?  The shell is crazy thick!  

The answer, my friends, is a Dewalt power drill. 

(Power tools in the kitchen?  The devoted Mr. Garland loved it.)

And safety glasses for everyone in the audience.

And a super cute baby.  

Everyone needs a baby when you crack an ostrich egg.  

Pop a 1-inch hole in the shell.

Then use a straw to break the yolk and blow out the shell.

I figured one egg was the equivalent of about 18 chicken eggs.  

Ready to feed an army.

Scramble her up. 

I don't know why but I think an ostrich egg is a 'she.'

So what did it taste like?

Chicken.

No, just kidding.

Ostrich.

Really kidding.  I don't think I've ever eaten ostrich meat before.

It tasted like egg, but the texture was different from regular chicken eggs.  A little on the rubbery side.  A fun adventure but I probably won't be racing out to the ostrich farm to buy more eggs.

Dad (in green shirt) loves eggs in any shape or form.  He always whines that my mom (far right in pink hat) never, ever feeds him eggs.  

Dad just likes to whine I think.  

Just one of the many reasons I like my dad.