Eggs and Queues
Hello! I’m Matthew, and not too long ago, my family and I packed up and moved from a small town in Wyoming to the bustling streets of London, England. “Howdy, London!” is my way of sharing our adventures with friends and family. But if you’ve stumbled across this and we’ve never met, welcome! I’d love to hear from you, so feel free to drop a comment below and introduce yourself. Now, let’s dive in!
We’re quickly approaching the first anniversary of our move to London, and one thing that’s struck me is how easy it is to integrate into a new culture, so much so that you begin to forget what once felt “normal.”
Take the British reverence for a proper queue. Every weekday around 3:00, I leave the office to pick up the boys from school. If you arrive early, the gate is closed, and parents gather outside. In an American school, this would resemble more of a social mob: parents mingling near the gate, casually debating politics, subtly elbowing their way to the front like it’s a general admission concert.
Not here.
In London, we queue. Silently. Dutifully. The line of parents stretches from the school gate to the street. Friendly conversation? Sure. Have a chat with the person in front of or behind you. But cut the line to join a friend and you’ll get the full force of the British stink-eye, followed by possible exile from future tea invitations. It’s social order with quiet judgment, and honestly, I kind of dig it.
Other Cultural Oddities: Let’s Talk About Eggs
Yes, eggs. Those delightful yellow bundles of protein-packed promise. In America, we’re conditioned to find them nestled safely in the refrigerated section. Cold, clean, and ready for brunch.
But here in the UK and, to be fair, most of Europe, eggs are just... on a shelf. Near the flour. Beside the sugar. No refrigeration, no caution tape, no biohazard warnings. Just sitting there. Room temperature.
At first, I was horrified. Where is the egg safety?! I considered staging an intervention—pulling cartons out of unsuspecting hands, shouting “SALMONELLA!” like some kind of food safety vigilante.
But then I remembered my childhood. Collecting eggs from beneath a furious hen who seemed personally offended by my prying fingers. Those eggs were not refrigerated. They were proudly displayed in a basket in my grandmother’s kitchen, at least, the ones I didn’t accidentally smash in my jacket pockets.
So… what gives?
Turns out, it’s all about how the eggs are treated after they leave the chicken. In the U.S., we wash our eggs to remove dirt and bacteria. This scrubbing also removes a natural protective layer called the cuticle (or bloom), which means the eggs then need to be refrigerated to stay safe.
In the UK, they don’t wash eggs. Which sounds gross. Yes, you might get a feather or a bit of barnyard ambience in your carton, but the cuticle remains intact, and that means the eggs can safely stay at room temperature.
“But what about salmonella?”, you cry. Don’t worry. Here in the UK, hens are vaccinated against it. Yes, I picture chickens queuing up for their shots, rolling up their sleeves (wings?), and sighing at the nurse. It's all very official.
So mystery solved. American eggs: washed, cuticle-free, must be chilled. British eggs: au naturel, cuticle intact, no refrigeration needed.
Of course, being good little Americans, we still put our room-temp eggs in the fridge the second we get home. Because who doesn’t love a slightly chilled egg?
Until next time,
Matthew
