WARNING: THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT BREAD.
ALSO: THIS POST CONTAINS SOME REFERENCES TO ‘GAME OF THRONES,’ WHICH I HAVE HIGHLIGHTED IN PURPLE SO YOU KNOW WHEN IT’S OKAY TO BE CONFUSED IF YOU HAVEN’T READ/WATCHED GAME OF THRONES. If you aren’t caught up, don’t worry: there aren’t any spoilers.
RECOMMENDATION: IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY, YOU SHOULD FIND A WAY TO WATCH GAME OF THRONES. …As long as you have nothing against naked boobies pretty much everywhere, people getting stabbed/mutilated pretty much everywhere, or incest in some places (fun for the whole family!).
On to the post!
It was a Sunday, around 11:00 AM, and I had yet to have breakfast. I get ornery if I go any later than 9:33.4 AM without finding something to
taste eat, so this was not an ideal situation. I was broke (per usual), so going out for brunch was not an option. Upon inspection, our fridge contained milk, 4 kinds of cheese, 3 kinds of mustard, green onions, some limp carrots, fig preserves, leftover pork lo mein (which James had a claim on), limeade, and eggs.
What can I say, I have a foodographic memory.
After standing in front of said fridge for an embarrassing amount of time, eyes darting from useless food to useless food, and making desperate whiny sounds in my throat, something magical happened.
I suddenly remembered that, once upon a time, I had eaten this thing, consisting of a cheesy, eggy pancake folded over random chopped vegetables and bits of some salty breakfast meat. I had even, several years ago, attempted to make one of these things, and instead wound up with what some restaurants delicately refer to as a ‘scramble.’ Eager to put something in my mouth, I decided to try again, as I now have a spatula which is far superior than my wretched spatula of olde, which couldn’t flip anything successfully.
Yeah, it was totally my spatula’s fault.
When it came to cooking egg things, I had a history of not…being…awesome. I had a hard time not destroying the yolks when flipping over-easy eggs (any homemade breakfast for James was always served with a side of “Errr, I bet it’ll still taste okay… Sorry.”) and, as I mentioned before, my previous attempt at making an not-scramble had super-failed. The egg didn’t cook evenly, and at the part where I was supposed to fold the egg blanket over itself, everything fell apart. I think part of it was a hesitation thing. Julia Child would say I didn’t have the courage of my flipping convictions.
Anyway, I sliced up some of the green onion (or scallion*, if you’re fancy), diced up half of a previously forgotten avocado (as much as one can ‘dice’ a mushy avocado), and chopped up a small Roma tomato.
Over medium-high flame, I melted 1/2 tablespoon of buttah in the biggest skillet I own (a twelve-incher: yeeeaaaah, boooooy), threw the green onion and tomato in there and gave them a few minutes to get all buttery and toasty and soft. Just like one side of the Hound’s face.
While that sizzled on the stove, I beat three eggs, added a good splash of milk (bout a quarter cup), and pinch of kosher salt.
Then I removed the browned tomato and scallion from the pan and put aside. To the pan I added more butter (more than a 1/2 tablespoon, but less than a whole tablespoon), wiggled it around to coat, turned my heat down to medium, and poured the eggy mix in.
I don’t know quite how it happened – I think perhaps my starved (read: somewhat hungry) state delivered me to a higher plane of cooking existence. With the utmost confidence, I swished the pan around to get everything evenly over the cooking surface, pushed the liquidy bits towards the rapidly firming edges, and popped the big bubbles that formed under the egg. I cracked some black pepper all over the place and gave my massive egg platter a minute to cook.
Then I sprinkled my browned tomato and scallion bits over half the egginess, and followed it with the avocado.
Grabbed one my cheese options (sharp cheddar) and grated it over the veggies. Things were looking good. Very good.
Realization: I was, at least so far, successfully making an OMELETTE.
Realization the second of his name: ‘Omelette’ sounds like the name of a French princess.
Realization Number Three: Butter, eggs, milk, cheese…sorry, vegan friends. Your mouth cannot wed the beautiful Princess Omelette. My mouth, however, is totally excited to consummate this thing. Call it the ‘Fed Wedding.’
With enough conviction to put a dozen men behind bars, I turned my skillet, slipped my spatula under the non-decorated half of the egg disc, and FLOPPED THAT MUTHA-EGGA PERFECTLY IN HALF, covering the cheddar and veggies.
I was so excited I flopped it in half AGAIN, in the most nontraditional of ways, making my omelette into a wedge, or triangle of amazingness.
I plopped my beautiful omelette on a plate, and, sliding my fork into one of its tender corners thought suddenly: “Is it normal to put avocado in an omelette? Did I totally just make something that looks great but will have a terrible consistency? HAVE I FAILED YET AGAIN?” I hesitated, my new-found confidence starting to wane, but then my stomach said ‘gllrrububub’ so I went for it.
And then for the second bite, I was all:
The taste of success was incredible. I stuffed my face a little more, then stopped for a moment to brag on Facebook:
This triggered a 43-comment conversation on my Facebook wall, held mostly between myself, James, and James’ co-worker Elly, whom I had met once (maybe twice), briefly while bothering my boyfriend at his job. Here’s a highlight:
I considered this while chewing on my last bite:
-I was quite flattered (I mean, how often is a girl called ‘Ali-goddess of Carbohydrates’),
-There were twelve likes on the status, so peeps were paying attention,
-I had no evidence of my egg creation, and
-I still had plenty of cheese, half an avocado, and enough tomato and green onion for another omelette.
I decided I really wanted to share my victory with
THE WORLD seven people who read this blog and had been debating opening up my subject matter to include foods other than bread. THIS MUST BE A SIGN. So:
So, I made another omelette and took photos that time (those cooking-photos you can see above were not from my original omelette. They were from my omelette’s doppelganger, that I made for Elly). Then I packaged the omelette very elegantly, like so:
and walked the eleven blocks to where Elly works, with my arrival timed perfectly for her lunch break. The omelette was still warm due to my ingenious transportation.
I believe making good people good things to eat is good karma, and it was pretty cool to witness somebody else experience the elation I had over my own omelette (ownlette). This was also very nice to see shortly after arriving home:
I discovered: bring someone unexpected, homemade food = INSTANT FRIEND.
I have made two perfect omelettes in my life. I plan on making it three later this morning – but I’ll be adding bacon, so it’s very possible it may surpass the first two. I have documented other non-bread cooking exploits recently, and will post about them as soon as I can. The name of my blog will remain Ali & Bread, ‘cuz that just has such a nice ring to it, but you can expect future posts to be about Ali & Tasty Food Of All Sorts.
*’Scallion’ totally sounds like it could be the name of a Game of Thrones character
SCALLION LANNISTER <3’s PRINCESS OMELETTE 4EVA. Joffrey can go lick a dire wolf turd.