I’ve become quite intrigued with eggs lately especially since I’ve been passing the Eierautomat sign on the highway for a many years now, so I finally decided to check it out. After all, its Easter, a time to color and eat eggs–and lots of them.
During my travels to Holland I have driven past plenty of Broodje Automat (sandwich dispenser) signs and OK, I get it! A sandwich, candy bar, or drink dispensing machine makes sense. For some reason I just can’t wrap my head around the idea of an Eierautomat (automatic egg dispenser), but am so looking forward to the experience.
I keep envisioning a Flintstones clip where Fred, Wilma, Pebbles, and Dino drive up to the automatic egg dispenser for a dozen eggs (that would be six or ten if you live in Germany–yep, we use the metric system). My vision goes like this, Fred inserts a stone coin into the machine which triggers the Brontosaurus-sized hen to lay a Brontosaurus-sized egg. Then, after a short wait and the willingness of the hen, Wilma opens the door and the egg is dispensed. Maybe that’s the way it was about 150 million years ago, so I imagine today’s Eierautomat is so much more advanced.
The Eierautomat Experience
Today, like Wilma, I took my Fred (husband) to the Eierautomat in hopes of having my vision of hens laying eggs in a free-range automated environment come to fruition, but only to find disappointment. The dispenser is just that, a spotty looking storage unit for eggs, and unfortunately today it was empty. That meant I had to ring the bell and go to the counter for normal service or settle for apples from the egg dispenser.
No, I just want to have a Wilma experience!
Inside the tiny room I was able to choose from brown or white large and small eggs, and of course apples too, so I decided to purchase ten large brown eggs, paid the farmer, and hung my head in disappointment as I left.
My husband went to the car so he could LOL (laugh out loud) and I stayed behind looking around the farm for hens and a remote sign of a hatchery, but no luck. The only tell-tale sign of freshness was the scent of cow manure in preparation for the soil’s next crop. Well, at least something around here is fresh, so the eggs must be too.
I was still trying to figure out where the hens were but it was getting late, so we decided to beat it on home and as I stored the eggs in the refrigerator I was wondering if the effort was worth it since I already had 16 store-bought eggs. I feel ripped off, at least when you buy eggs at the grocery store in Germany they come with a hen’s feather.
Sitting at the table with my iPad I decided I had better get cracking because I’ve got 26 eggs that need to be prepared.
My egg search called up a photo of a chef’s hat and I remembered reading that the folds in a chef’s hat represents the number of ways they know how to cook an egg. I’m not a chef but I can certainly bake, boil, devil, fry, scramble, poach, and more.