I came upon tiny quail eggs at the market - freshly laid! Naturally, I had to buy some, and as you can imagine the Russian smiled down thoroughly entertained from his towering height when I pulled them from the basket...

Sunny side up or hard-boiled?

It was as if electricity had just been invented, and the six of us gathered round to see; it doesn't take much to thrill us. They were surprisingly hard to crack! My eldest, who feels a kind of Einstein complicity with her native-Swiss father, watched on in amusement as my fingers gutted the poor little eggs and I tried my best to display a sense of deft precision.

A small feast.

And after they had been gobbled up, which took about one second, the questions arose, Aren't there any more? We're still hungry! Were there any chicks inside?