I honestly didn’t think it would turn into an argument. That morning, my girlfriend was making breakfast while I sat at the kitchen table scrolling through my phone. She cracked a few eggs into a pan, and without thinking, I said, “You’re not going to rinse those first?” She looked at me strangely. “Rinse what?” “The eggs. Before you crack them.” She laughed, assuming I was joking. When she realized I was serious, she said, “Nobody rinses eggs.” I immediately replied, “My mom always did.” The smile disappeared from her face. “Okay… but that doesn’t mean everyone does.” I shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s more hygienic.” She didn’t answer. She finished cooking, placed the plate in front of me, and sat down in silence. The rest of breakfast felt awkward. Later that day, I mentioned it to a few coworkers. To my surprise, every single one of them reacted the same way. “You rinse eggs?” “No.” “Why would anyone do that?” One coworker even explained that washing eggs at home can sometimes spread bacteria from the shell around the sink and countertop. According to him, commercial egg producers already clean eggs before they’re sold. I was shocked. For nearly thirty years, I had assumed everyone rinsed eggs before cooking them. That evening, I decided to call my mom. “Mom, quick question. Why did you always wash eggs before cooking?” There was a long pause. Then she started laughing. “Oh honey, I only did that because your grandmother did it.” “So… there wasn’t any special reason?” “Nope.” “Not for safety?” “Not that I know of.” I couldn’t believe it. An entire belief I’d carried my whole life came from a habit that had been passed down through generations without anyone questioning it. When my girlfriend came home, I apologized. “I looked into the egg thing.” She crossed her arms. “And?” “You were right.” She raised an eyebrow. “Say that again.” “You were right.” She grinned. I continued, “Apparently I’ve been defending a family tradition instead of actual science.” She burst out laughing. For the first time all day, the tension disappeared. Then she opened the refrigerator, grabbed an egg, held it up, and asked, “Should I rinse this one?” I rolled my eyes. “Never let me live this down, huh?” “Nope.” And honestly, I deserved it. That little argument taught me something important: just because something was done in your family doesn’t automatically make it the correct way. Sometimes traditions survive simply because nobody stops to ask why. Now whenever we make breakfast together, she points at the eggs and asks if they’d like a shower first. And every single time, we both end up laughing.
Related Posts
