an ostrich egg named lulu

A few weeks ago I brought home an ostrich egg. I was so excited myself since it would be he first time the kids will see a humongous hermitically sealed yolk. It was a Saturday and only about 6:00 am when I arrived. The kids were still asleep.

I first went to see Kuya and Butchoy. Kuya was already struggling to wake up when I brought in the heavy egg. He blurted out in amazement and immediately woke up Butchoy who almost jumped out of bed.

In the other house, Ate was also asleep. But when she saw the egg her eyes opened a bit bigger than before. Every body crowded around. Each one trying to get a feel of the shell as each one tries to box each other’s hand out. I told them that each of them should take turns in warming the egg if they want an ostrich for a pet.

It was a joke of course. I hated the last ostrich I saw. My intention for the egg was to make leche flan out of it.

An hour later they were still crowding around the ratite egg. By this time they were already calling it Lulu. Lulu? It was on a makeshift nest of old towels. They said they were now ready to take turns sitting on the egg. I asked why they have to wrap it up. They said it’s like the balut. I almost fell where I was standing.

Then the fateful time came. I readied the llaneras with sugar caramel, prepared two cans of condensed milk and the steamer. All I need to do is to make a hole on the shell and let all the content out. I set the egg on a small bowl for it to stand steadily on one tip. I poked the egg using a knife and in a twisting motion I succeeded in making a small hole. With a clean barbecue stick I tried to beat the egg while still in the shell. When I thought that the egg was beaten enough, I shook the egg letting its contents splatter on a kawali.

Mixed the egg with condensed milk. It was very difficult to beat thoroughly; I had to do it carefully or the egg will spill out of the kawali. I gave up on producing a uniformly textured mix. I went on portioning the mixture into the llaneras, loosely covering them with foil and unto the steamer. While doing this, Kuya was already in tears and accusing me of killing Lulu.

They all promised not to eat Lulu. But in the evening, when the leche flan that was once an ostrich egg named Lulu was already chilled, they couldn’t help tasting, and then enjoying a llanera each, of what was once a pet candidate.