Its that time of year when funding applications are due for those of us trying to make thinking a paying job. For me that means the need for huge quantities of baking to relieve the inevitable stress and despair. I've stocked the house with a worrying quantity of green and blacks chocolate, ordered a whole load of bunny moulds from Jane Asher, and am ready to meet my doom. I have five days to finalise the application, and five days in which to bake and temper my way out of oblivion. I find fiddly little jobs like tempering chocolate are a much needed distraction when life hangs in the balence. In a very martha stewart moment I've even emptied the insides out of several eggs via a cunningly placed hole, ready for filling with yet more chocolate.
Its a very OCD kind of job, requiring pins and wooden skewers, and a lot more patience than I can usually muster. A is happy with it though, as it means I'm making scrambled eggs in the morning in a bid to use up the egg insides. Morning cooking is rare in our house, we're just not up to that level of domestic bliss.
I love these eggs. They are one of the best things in tescos (not that that is saying much). I've been in the habit of going into raptures about them to each new person I meet, extolling the virtues of the pale beiges and blues of the shells, the marigold orange of the yolk, the wonderful taste. Those few friends who didn't think me certifiable before certainly do when I get started on the merits of these eggs. I know no limits.
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