Stocking up on eggs? Here's what a Wisconsin poultry specialist says about safe storage, usage
Eggs are flying off the shelves in supermarkets and major retailers like Trader Joe's and Costco as shoppers fear the shortage fueled by the bird flu outbreak will leave them without their favorite breakfast staple.
Prices for eggs have skyrocketed as bird flu has taken a toll on commercial egg farms across the country. According to the American Egg Board, nearly 50 million laying hens were culled in the U.S. in the past year due to bird flu.
Last week, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics unveiled its latest monthly price data, showing the average cost of a dozen large grade A eggs is the highest in 45 years. U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) officials expect the price of eggs to jump another 20% this year. Thieves have even resorted to stealing eggs from a restaurant in Seattle and a distribution trailer in Pennsylvania.
Photos of empty shelves in grocery store refrigerated cases have appeared on social media as well as a viral video posted by TikTok user @the.ibarras on Feb. 1 of a shopper filling her grocery cart with over 200 dozen eggs at a California Costco.
Similar to the shortage of toilet paper and hand sanitizer in the early days of the COVID pandemic, customers have been stocking up on eggs. However, eggs are perishable and buyers should keep in mind that they won't stay fresh.
Here are some tips about storing and using eggs safely.
Across the end of the egg carton are two lines: a three-digit code indicating the date the eggs were packaged based on the Julian calendar, and a 'best by' date informing the buyer how long the eggs will be at their optimal taste and quality.
Ron Kean, University of Wisconsin Division of Extension Poultry Specialist says most eggs on store shelves are pretty fresh. Eggs produced in a commercial egg facility are processed and packed within a day or two of being laid.
"The American Egg Board says eggs are good for 2 to 3 weeks beyond their 'use by' date on the carton," Kean said.
Before bringing eggs home from the store, buyers should inspect the shells for cracks, even small hairline fractures. Kean says older eggs will lose moisture and the quality will decrease — whites will be thinner and the yolk will break more easily.
The "float" test is often used under the premise that good eggs will sink while bad eggs will float. Kean says the procedure mostly tests the age of the egg.
"As the egg ages, moisture evaporates through the shell, so older eggs will have a larger air cell, which causes them to float," Kean said. "But 'old' doesn't mean 'spoiled'. According to the USDA, an egg that floats may still be edible as long as it doesn't smell after you crack it."
Kean says that breaking an egg in a separate bowl can be helpful to check for any off-odors or discolorations. In that case, the egg should be discarded.
"Small blood spots occur occasionally, and they can be gently removed — those eggs are safe to eat," Kean said.
U.S. consumers are often surprised to learn many European countries don't subscribe to refrigerating eggs. They rely on the egg's "bloom" — a natural coating which prevents the shell from being porous — to keep water and oxygen in and bad bacteria out. Washing can damage that layer, Yi Chen, a food scientist at Purdue University told NPR.
According to the USDA, U.S. egg producers and processors began washing and refrigerating their eggs in the early 1970s over concerns over foodborne illnesses.
Kean says he's in favor of refrigeration for two reasons.
"The quality of the egg (thickness of the whites and strength of the yolks) decreases much more slowly when refrigerated. And even though Salmonella is very rare in eggs today, it is still possible," he said. "If there happens to be Salmonella present in the eggs, it will multiply more quickly at room temperatures, but the growth will be much slower when refrigerated."
At the time of egg-rationing during World War II, this reporter's great-grandfather would preserve eggs by water glassing them. He would dip them in a sodium silicate solution thought to prevent eggs from spoiling by sealing their pores.
However, food safety experts at the University of Utah Extension warn against water glassing eggs due to potential risks of bacteria growth if not handled properly.
You can also freeze eggs, according to the National Center for Home Food Preservation.
The National Retail Federation estimates that Americans typically purchase around 180 million eggs to dye and decorate for Easter each year. Kean doesn't expect egg production to improve by mid-April.
Demand may decrease a bit because of the high prices, so prices might come down slightly. Some stores may also lower prices despite the losses, much like sales on turkeys before Thanksgiving.
"I think the tradition of dying eggs is a little less common than it used to be, so the 'Easter bump' in egg demand has not been as big as it once was," Kean said. "That may temper any 'extra' price increases we might expect."
He anticipates egg prices will soften a bit for summer, as demand tends to decrease over the warmer months.
This article originally appeared on Wisconsin State Farmer: Wisconsin poultry specialist talks safe storage, usage of eggs
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Yahoo
Why Alpine Cheese Is Disappearing — and What We Lose If It Goes
In Italy's Valle d'Aosta, I ducked into a tunnel carved into the side of a mountain. Once a copper mine, it now holds thousands of wheels of Fontina DOP, one of the Alps' most storied cheeses. The first thing that hit was the smell: wood smoke, moss, and the unmistakable savory tang of cheese as it slowly ripens. I had asked Massimiliano Accornero, sales manager for the regional producers' cooperative, to snap a photo of me in the cave. 'Wait until we get to the end,' he said with a smile. 'There's an amazing view of so much cheese.' Related: Worried About Your Cheese Budget? Here Are 5 European-Sounding Cheeses That Are Actually Made in the U.S. But when we reached the far wall, several shelves sat empty. Accornero shook his head. 'It's weird for me,' he said quietly. 'I've never seen it this way in my life.' The empty shelves are the result of a sharp drop in production across the region. Fontina producers are making significantly less cheese than usual, brought on by a perfect storm of challenges: climate shifts, rising costs, labor shortages, and changing consumer habits. For one of Italy's most iconic mountain cheeses, the ripple effects are beginning to show, not just in the aging caves, but on grocery shelves around the world. Alpine cheese is made traditionally in the mountains of Switzerland, Italy, France, and Austria, where cows graze on wild herbs and flowers. There's no official, regulated definition of 'Alpine cheese,' but many of the most iconic examples, like Le Gruyère AOP, Fontina DOP, and Comté, are protected by European designations that control where and how they're made. This isn't Gruyère-style cheese from Wisconsin, or generic 'Alpine blend' shreds from the grocery aisle. It's cheese that's rooted deeply in geography, culture, and seasonality, shaped by altitude and history. Fontina's story, for example, goes back more than 800 years. First documented in 1217, it's made only from raw milk produced by Valdostana cows that graze on steep mountain pastures on Italy's side of the Alps. Gruyère has an even longer lineage. It was first recorded in 1115 in what's now western Switzerland. These cheeses are more than just food — they are living cultural artifacts, made the same way for centuries in a rhythm dictated by the seasons and land."'We used to go up the mountain in early June. Now, we go in early May. The grass grows faster, but not better. There's less snow, which means less water. The cows have less to drink, and the grass is less nutritious. It looks O.K., but it's not.'"In the summer, cows ascend to high-altitude pastures, where the wild grasses, herbs, and flowers lend complex flavors to the milk. These alpages, as they are called in French, are the heart of Alpine cheesemaking. From June to September, families live and work in simple, often solar-powered chalets, where they make cheese in wood-fired copper vats and age them in stone-lined cellars. When the weather cools, cows and people descend the mountain in a celebratory désalpe or désarpa, sometimes accompanied by parades, garlands, and bells. This seasonal migration with the herd is both romantic and grueling, rooted in necessity and reverence. It's what gives Alpine cheese its soul, and it is now increasingly under threat. Every producer I spoke with agreed: the challenges facing Alpine cheesemaking are not singular. They are interwoven and mounting. The most urgent is climate change. Emma Fuchs, an Austrian cheesemaker who spends her summers in the Allgäu Alps, with her husband Richard, says that the season has shifted. 'We used to go up the mountain in early June. Now, we go in early May,' she says. 'The grass grows faster, but not better. There's less snow, which means less water. The cows have less to drink, and the grass is less nutritious. It looks O.K., but it's not.' The Fuchs make a cheese called Alpe Loche, which is matured for a year in a stone cellar underneath their home. The cheese bursts with layers of flavors from puckery guava to meaty broth. In alpine ecosystems, even subtle shifts have cascading effects. Fewer snowmelt-fed streams mean parched pastures. Hotter days dry up valleys faster. With less high-quality forage, milk yields decline and the resulting cheeses lose some of their complexity. In a place where each wheel represents a season's worth of effort, that impact is profound. Labor and generational succession are another challenge. 'The number one problem is that young people don't want this life,' says Accornero. 'They don't want to work every weekend and every holiday. They want jobs that pay better and offer more time off.' That sentiment is echoed in Gruyère, where herds are consolidating, villages are shrinking, and many in the next generation choose other paths. Related: This Is Officially the No. 1 American-Made Cheese, According to This Year's U.S. Championship Cheese Contest 'It's not just about being born into it,' says Fuchs, who has three generations under one roof. 'You have to be in harmony with the cows, the mountains, the rhythm. If it's not in your body, it's not the right life.' Economics and trade also complicate the picture. Tariffs, currency fluctuations, and rising production costs have made small-scale cheese operations harder to sustain. In Italy's Aosta Valley, for instance, Fontina DOP production has declined from 4,006 tons in 2021 to 3,814 tons in 2023."'Milk prices used to go in cycles. But now, the pressure is constant. Small and medium farms are closing. If we don't make this profession respected — and viable — we'll lose it.'"Feed costs have surged due to supply chain disruptions and poor harvests linked to extreme weather. Energy expenses have spiked due to fuel price volatility, especially for producers who rely on heat and refrigeration in remote, mountainous regions. Retail prices for cheeses like Le Gruyère AOP and Comté have seen noticeable increases. Some varieties cost up to 40% more than they did a few years ago. 'Milk prices used to go in cycles,' says Michele Buster, co-founder of Forever Cheese and creator of Save the Shepherd. 'But now, the pressure is constant. Small and medium farms are closing. If we don't make this profession respected — and viable — we'll lose it.' Buster started Save the Shepherd in 2022 to combat a decline in the region's farms and shepherds. Her initiative highlights the stories of aging shepherds and cheesemakers who fear there's no one left to take over. 'We need to stop picturing cheesemakers as mountain men with walking sticks,' says Buster. 'There's incredible technology and innovation happening. This work can be modern. It can be cool. But we need to show that.' At Alpe Loche, Fuch's nephew, Florian, has taken up the torch. Rather than scale up, he invested in better infrastructure: a small milking parlor to replace hand-milking, a free-stall barn that gives cows more space and comfort, and modest mechanical upgrades to make the work more humane. 'They didn't do it to make more cheese,' says Sigfried von Frankenberg-Leu, who stayed with the family during a cheesemaking apprenticeship. 'They did it to make life better — for the animals and the people.' Last September, I stepped onto the farm of Le Gruyère AOP milk producer Nicolas Jotterand, and into what felt like The Sound of Music, in the countryside outside of Biere, Switzerland. Jotterand's farm is perched on a hilltop north of the Alps, in the foothills of Mount Moléson. The hills were alive that day with regal Holstein cows. Their large bells rang in the gentle breeze as they munched on grass and wild herbs. In every direction, the sun shone generously on bright green hills. At Jotterand's farm, innovation meets stewardship. Solar panels line the roof. Manure is composted and reused as fertilizer. Methane emissions are tracked and mitigated with essential oils. 'It's not one thing that makes our milk high quality,' says Jotterand. 'It's all of it: how we treat the cows, the land, the air. Everything matters.' Related: 5 Surprising Facts You Should Know About Cheese, According to an Expert Even the supply chain is evolving to meet the moment. Jonathon Richardson of Columbia Cheese described how their team builds long-term relationships with Alpine producers. 'We don't get as much cheese as we want, but we get what we can,' he says. 'We bring them American whiskey. We check in. That connection [is] part of the sustainability, too.' Alpine cheeses like Fontina and Gruyère are nutty, grassy, silky, and complex. But that's not all. They are the sum of landscapes, people, practices, and time. Each wheel carries the imprint of a place and season: the grass that grew that summer, the hands that turned it, the cellars that aged it. If these traditions fade, we don't just lose flavor. We lose a worldview. A way of living close to the land. A model of slow food, intentional work, and intergenerational knowledge. We lose the bells on the cows' necks, the stories passed down at the vat, and the alpages that dot the mountains like time capsules. But we don't have to lose it, at least not yet. These cheeses are still here. People still believe in them. They're still climbing mountains in May, making two wheels a day by hand (on a good day), braving steep pastures, erratic weather and low pay to bring something extraordinary into the world. All they ask is that we pay attention. That we pay a little more. That we care. And when we taste a sliver of these alpine cheeses, that's incredibly easy to do. Read the original article on Food & Wine
CBS News
5 hours ago
- CBS News
Denver Public Schools is helping make sure kids don't go hungry this summer
Denver Public Schools launched its Summer Food Service Program at dozens of schools across the city to make sure every child keeps hunger at bay while on summer break. Breakfast and lunch are free for all children, age 18 and younger, on weekdays. New to the program this year is food that is locally grown, which is featured in the meals. The Colorado Department of Education has 635 summer meal sites open statewide to provide meals free of charge to all youth ages 18 and younger. CBS "The kids are getting our normal school menu, but they're also getting farm-grown locally by Denver Public Schools produce that is added to the summer meals and breakfast," said DPS Summer Meals Engagement Coordinator Lindsey Long. According to DPS, "The Summer Meals Program is funded by the U.S. Department of Agriculture and administered by the Colorado Department of Education's School Nutrition Unit in partnership with community-based program sponsors. Last year, program sponsors provided more than 1.9 million meals to Colorado youth." Denver Public Schools launched its "Summer Food Service Program" at dozens of schools across the city. CBS Meals are provided free of charge to anyone aged 18 and younger, no registration, identification, or proof of income or enrollment is required to enjoy a summer meal. The Colorado Department of Education says 635 summer meal sites are open statewide to provide meals free of charge to all youth ages 18 and younger. Visit to find a nearby meal site. Additional Information from Denver Public Schools: About the Summer Meals Program: • Meals are free to all kids and teens 18 years and younger. In rural locations, some meals may be taken home to eat. • Parents do not need to apply to the program for their children to get free summer meals. • Organizations that can administer the Summer Meals Program include schools, non-profit organizations, government entities, camps, universities, and community and faith-based organizations. • Parents and youth can find summer meal sites by visiting • Meals served follow USDA nutrition guidelines. About the Summer Electronic Benefit Transfer Program: • Summer EBT provides $120 per eligible school-aged child to buy groceries. • Funds to purchase groceries are placed on EBT cards. • The program is led by the Colorado Department of Human Services with support from CDE. • To learn more about Summer EBT, visit
Yahoo
9 hours ago
- Yahoo
My husband and I forgot how to be a team after having kids. These 4 steps saved our marriage.
The founders of the popular parenting platform Big Little Feelings — moms and real-life best friends Deena Margolin, a child therapist specializing in interpersonal neurobiology, and Kristin Gallant, a parenting coach with a background in maternal and child education — are back with more parenting wisdom in Yahoo's new column called , a companion to their podcast, After Bedtime With Big Little Feelings. In the third episode of their show, Margolin and her husband open up about how communication, or a lack thereof, played a role in their marital challenges, including leading to feelings of resentment. Margolin reveals that she felt alone and unheard while her husband tended to overthink in isolation rather than talk things through. Margolin explains how their different communication styles set up roadblocks in their relationship and shares the four strategies that saved their marriage. Before kids, my husband and I rarely fought. We had different personalities, sure — me, more internal and emotional; him, more logical and reserved. But we clicked. We were in love. We knew how to laugh. We were a team. And then we had a baby. And then we quickly had another baby. Then somewhere between the 2 a.m. feeds, the cracked nipples, the mounting work deadlines and the Costco-size packs of diapers, we forgot how to be that team. We didn't yell. We didn't throw plates. But we didn't connect at all. In fact, we barely talked, at least not in a way that made either of us feel seen. I felt so alone in our relationship, and he felt like he couldn't win. And neither of us knew how to say or get what we really needed from each other. Here's the dangerous lie many couples fall into: 'If they really loved me, they'd just know what I need.' But here's the truth, both personally and professionally: Your partner is not a mind reader. And they never will be! I spent so much time feeling invisible, unheard and unsupported. I was carrying the entire mental load of parenting and managing our household, while also building a business and trying not to completely lose myself in motherhood. Meanwhile, my husband was doing all his problem-solving and decision making in his own head. So by the time he brought something to me, it was already fully formed: 'This is what I think we should do.' And I was sitting there, like: Wait. What about me? What about what I think? We weren't screaming at each other — we were slowly drifting. And what grew in that silence wasn't peace, it was resentment. Psychologist John Gottman refers to the 'four horsemen of the apocalypse' in relationships — criticism, contempt, stonewalling and defensiveness — and resentment can be a part of that. Once it's there, it poisons everything, which definitely was true for my relationship. When we're not talking openly and vulnerably and truly hearing each other, we make assumptions. We project stories. We stop being partners and start becoming adversaries. So, what actually helped us? Here's what finally started to shift things in our marriage — not overnight, but over time: Emotional intelligence is the ability to notice, name and regulate emotions, and it's one of the strongest predictors of relationship satisfaction (and yes, it can be learned!). My husband couldn't communicate because he didn't have the tools or even the language to do so. That's not a flaw. It's how a lot of men (and people) are raised. Emotions were never modeled or named in his home. He had to learn how to feel and speak. And well, I am a therapist, who had also been in therapy myself, so we had different skill sets. That had never really been a major issue for us until now, in this new chapter as parents. Therapy gave my husband that ability, and that gave us a starting place. I'm an external processor, so I like to 'walk the parking lot,' meaning talk it out in real time. My husband is an internal processor, so he loops through everything in his own mind before sharing. This used to make us clash, but now we name it and work with it. We know we need more check-ins, more intentional time and more conversations that are just about us. (Not the grocery list. Not the school calendar. Us.) We started being explicit and made invisible expectations visible. Here's what that looks like: 'I need you to tell me you see how hard I'm working right now.' 'I'm overwhelmed. Can we talk through who's doing what this week?' 'I don't want you to solve this. I just want you to listen.' And yes, it was awkward at first. But it was better than the guessing game. And research shows that couples who clearly state their needs and check in about expectations regularly have better conflict recovery and stronger emotional bonds. When we'd relied on spontaneity and hope that it would just 'figure itself out' when it came to chores, communication and more, we failed. We learned that when we had more structure, we succeeded more. We started a shared Google calendar. We wrote down the weekly division of labor. We scheduled time to actually talk without distractions and without phones. One of the biggest steps for us: We also gave each other alone time on purpose, so we could fill our own tanks and show up as a more grounded version of ourselves when together. Sure, scheduling isn't romantic, but it definitely saved us!
