wrong egg.

After googillion years, my father brought home baluts (is that how you pluralize ‘balut’?) again. What’s more amazing is that he brought home baluts for no apparent reason. What amazes me the most is that he wants me to eat one! I was like … why?!

A balut (Trứng vịt lộn or Hột vịt lộn in Vietnamese, Pong tea khon in Cambodian) is a fertilized duck egg with a nearly-developed embryo inside that is boiled and eaten in the shell. It’s usually sold in the wee hours of the morning by street vendors carrying baskets with dangling chicharons. You start eating it by making a relatively small hole to sip the amniotic fluid (or broth, if you want a euphemism) out.

And to fulfill what my father wanted me to do, that’s what I did. I took the egg, got a spoon, then gave the egg a bash. The only problem is I cracked the wrong egg, so unfortunately this happened:

that’s the balut with the chicken-egg-in-a-cup.

Good job. What will I do with the raw egg? Stupid.