Andy HoffmanIt’s true what they say: you can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs. The eggs I break here involve travel and restaurant reviews. The love story remains, though. Making food tells Deb how much I love her. I make her favorites whenever I can: mushroom risotto, baked fish, a whole chicken smoked slowly on the grill, and of course omelets. We eat breakfast at home much more often that we eat breakfast out, and omelets usually come out the clear winner.
We make very different styles of omelet, and perhaps she will tell you her method in another post. I can’t say that I prefer my omelets to hers. It’s just the way I learned to make them and I continue to make them the same way even now, though always with minor variations. The contents of the fridge often determine what sort of omelet Deb will get, those mornings I cook for her. Always cheese – from the soft mild cheeses she prefers like brie and chevre, to the more pronounced one I favor, like aged Manchego or Comte. We always have some good cheese on hand at home. Slice it thinly, enough to cover the bottom of whatever pan you use.
We don’t always have leftover veggies or mushrooms. If we do, they definitely go into the omelet, warmed first in the microwave. If not, we generally will have spinach or arugula, each of which do in a pinch, but they each require different handling.
You need a heavy-bottomed pan to make a good omelet, or at least I do. I place the pan on the burner with the smallest possible flame. Add butter, and don’t scrimp: a well-greased pan makes it easier to fold the omelet. Let the butter melt and cover the bottom completely. Roll the pan around so you get some up the sides. I like to mince a clove of garlic at this step, but I love garlic in everything.
When I make an omelet for us to share, I use five eggs. Beat the eggs completely, making sure that the yolks and whites blend. If you see a translucent wave in the egg you haven’t quite finished. Add some gentle herbs, like parsley or thyme, and a pinch of salt and paprika. If you like a bit more sing, go with chili powder or ground hot pepper. Add a couple of drops of white vinegar. You won’t taste it, but the acid makes the omelet fluff. You can use lemon instead, but you will probably taste that.
Now begins the magic. Kick the heat up a little bit, somewhere between low and medium on most stoves. Eggs taste better cooked slowly. The garlic, if you included it, should sizzle the tiniest bit – that’s how you know you have the temperature right. Pour the eggs into the pan with a steady hand. You can use a spatula or your hand to scoop all the eggy goodness from the bowl.
Cover the eggs with cheese. If it’s a harder cheese, let it cook a minute or so before adding the veggies. (If you are using fresh spinach or arugula, cover the bottom of the pan before you add the eggs. It will cook the greens and give some pretty color to the omelet.)
Most importantly – do not futz with the omelet. You will want to, but resist the temptation. The goal is to get the omelet a lovely golden brown, and if you stir the eggs it will never happen, and you will dissipate the little vinegar-created bubbles that make the omelet fluffy. If you make your omelets for two or more, get yourself a big spatula, like this one I’m holding. After the cheese has melted, run the spatula around the edge of the pan to separate the eggs from the side. (This why you need the butter!) After about 6 minutes – and while there’s a thin liquid coating of egg still on the omelet – the eggs should begin to brown. Ease the spatula between the eggs and the pan and gently fold the omelet. Once folded, use the spatula to move the omelet to the center of the pan so you can finish cooking the eggs to your desired consistency. Deb likes her eggs a little gooey.