Tonight we were supposed to go snowboarding with friends at Alpental. While I’m an avid skier, tonight would have been my first time on a snowboard since very early 1997! But alas at 3:00 pm it was raining on the pass - rain is the biggest drawback of being a skier in Washington. Oh well.

Instead we got to see our friends John and Kristen for dinner at the Main Street Alehouse and celebrate John’s 41st birthday a few days early. The food was, as always, great. My favorite thing on the menu at the alehouse is their homemade potato chips. They fry them fresh when you order and they’re delivered hot to your table, tossed with spicy “stuff” and ranch dressing to dip in. Totally not good for me I’m sure, but so amazing that I need to learn to make them myself!

Anyway, back to the title of this post. We’re still swimming in eggs with the hens giving us 4 - 6 each day. And with all the stress of buying and trying to sell we’re not doing that much baking or making of breakfasts which is how we use most of our eggs. So instead we’re giving A LOT of eggs away.

Kristen saves all her empty egg cartons for me, which is much appreciated. In return I kick her a dozen eggs as often as I can. So tonight I grabbed a mixed dozen and took them to dinner to give to her. We ended up parking a couple blocks away and since I wasn’t sure where they would park I decided to take them into the alehouse with me.

I toted them in, realized they wouldn’t fit in my bag, and so set them on the table. About five minutes after we arrived, and before John & Kristen got there, the bus girl stopped to find out “what’s with the eggs?” I filled her in and off she went. About 2 minutes later our waitress stopped and said “I’m not trying to be rude, but everyone’s asking me, so what’s with the eggs?” And so I filled her in too.

All evening, for almost 2 hours, it was questions about the eggs and odd looks. Of course it likely didn’t help that they stayed on the table in their sad tattered carton held together with a rubber band for our entire meal. We even put appetizer plates on top of the carton in the center of the table.

But really. No one’s seen a dozen “home grown” eggs before? I never expected that my laziness would result in us being the talk of the pub. That they would be so notable that people would actually ask. Our server and the bus girl both offered to put them in the fridge. And at the end of the night the bus girl brought us our leftovers in a box and told me to take them home for the birds.

So my advice? If you want really good service in a pub, be that weirdo that brings a dozen eggs in a ratty carton and puts them on the table for your friend. More attention in a restaurant then I’ve had for years.