Jan 15, 2005

Look at my omelets, ye mighty and despair!

My wife and I are deeply embroiled in a fight about how to spell the word "omelet." She's insistent that the spelling I'm using is the "uneducated way" to spell the word. She insists on the old school spelling "omelette," which has that Francophilic way about it. Bosh.

Maybe I need to ask Alton Brown how to spell it.

This is how it happened: this morning, foolishly, I feel like treating the wife to an omelet. I managed to produce one lovely cheddar and ham model which she, lurking about the kitchen, expecting me to burn the place down, declares to be the Evil Three Toos of omlets--too brown, too runny, and too big. So, I accept that lovely model for myself, fill with cheddar and ham, execute a perfect 1/3 flip of the front edge, close it up with a perfect 1/3 flip when I plate it, and set about to produce another for her, with the same fillings, trying to make sure I keep the egg spread out a great deal and with the fire wayyyyy down.

As I'm cooking she grabs the pan out of my hands and begins to swirl the still-liquid egg wayyyyy up on the rim of the pan, spraying yellow all over the stove in a desperate attempt to protect herself from samonella poisoning. After I chided her she relinquished the pan. I filled two-thirds of it with the tiny diced ham and shredded cheddar, and she gives me the Stink Eye, telling me I'm being stingy on the filling, so I upended the cutting board onto the egg. Another beautiful 1/3 flip, since I'm all about the third-fold omelet, instead of the old school half-fold, and it settles down for a few more minutes of warming.

Cheese melted to perfection, I produce yet another stunning third-fold plating, and it turns out even better than the first, with precisely flipped edges, no brown in sight, and a perfectly done interior, no runs, no ick, nothing. She promptly ruins it with a giant application of ketchup.

And yes, I know it's not as beautiful a plating as I could have managed--hell, I could have used PLATES for one thing, and maybe a sprig of parsley and a few orange slices, but hey, at least I cooked them. And they were good, even tho my lovely wife only finished half of hers, and not a samonella poisoning in sight. So, being proud of my culinary creation, I decide to post about it, and suddenly I can't spell to save my life, end up going to dictionary.com to prove my spelling aptitude and the multiple spellings of the woid, and now she's at work so I am free to spell however I care to!

O
Om
Ome
Omel
Omele
Omelet
!

And yes, I'm certain I'll get the Stink Eye when she reads this, but she knows it's all in good fun, because I originally spelled it "omlet."

1 comment:

The Screaming Lemur said...

la vie longue la résistance d'omelette!!