My better half makes a mean frittata, the open-faced omelet, pictured up top with ham, spinach and sharp cheddar. He sautes the various components before sliding the eggs into the pan and adding those cooked ingredients back on top and finishing it under the broiler.
But yesterday at breaky, we talked about how cool it would be if you could make an omelet like Julia Child did. Beaten eggs in the pan, shake it violently and, voila, a perfect omelet is served. She made it look so easy. Click here to watch her!
Omelet failure is what drove Johnny to fix the frittata instead. He was frustrated when the center wouldn't set. He tried cooking it fast and slow and everything in between, but it was either dry or slimy. Not cool.
Maybe what we both need is to buy a couple dozen eggs and just practice. Oui?
Part 20... I went to lovely Tilikum Place Cafe for lunch yesterday and saw a plate pass by that turned my head and stirred my rumbling tummy. It was a fried egg sitting on top of baked beans and toast. A regular English breakfast, that.
I ended up ordering something else (the special, which was kielbasa, braised red cabbage and perogi, pictured above), but it got me thinking: Why did the English breakfast never take off in this country? With the beans and the fried tomato? I lived in England when I was a college student and flopped at many cheap-o B and Bs. But no matter how tatty the accommodations, I could always look forward to a cooked breakfast. It fueled me until I could ramble into a pub and get a ploughman's lunch. (Pause for nostalgic sigh.)
OK, I'm taking a pledge right now: More beans and eggs in the morning!