Omelettegate

"Egg may be dressed in a multiplicity of ways but seldom more relished in any form than in a well made, expeditiously served omelette." (Eliza Acton¹)

I love eggs.  First choice: boiled.  Or no, scrambled.  Or no, perhaps poached and perched atop an English muffin and a slice of ham and dripping with home-made Hollandaise.  I love egg yolk smeared across a Fiorentina pizza, thoroughly eggy eggy bread, eggs oozing over a salad niçoise.  I'd fly back to London in an instant on the promise of a freshly-made scotch egg.  Well you get the point: I love eggs.  I love them every way they come, but one.  I cannot stand an omelette.  Why, I cannot say, but I absolutely loathe them.  Excepting, for reasons that remain unknown to me, the omelette as made in India, where they are often huge and light and fluffy and mostly made of plasticky cheese, I just cannot stomach them.  The very smell makes me want to vomit.

Yet for some reason, and I still don't know why, I last week made omelettes for lunch.  I'm not sure what I was thinking: perhaps if I make one it will be different?  Perhaps something's changed, perhaps I was wrong and now will see the light?  I generally consider dislike of an everyday sort of food to be utterly irritating and overly fussy and with the exception of marmite and all things aniseedy, I've been able to accustomise myself to all sorts of everyday tastes that I previously hadn't the inclination to try (note 'everyday': this does not, then, include fermented mare's milk, snake wine or tripe and oxtail curry.  But I make no apology for this).  

I digress: I had been rediscovering Delia's marvellous How To Cook 1, in which she divulges an inordinate amount of information about eggs.  She tells one how to gage how old an egg is, how to store them, how to separate them, how to whisk an egg white; how to make meringues, custard and soufflés; frittata, tortilla and open-faced egg sandwiches; how to make egg curry, egg salad, eggs en cocotte and, rather famously, how to make a boiled egg.  Delia devotes three entire chapters to eggs, and one of these is given entirely to the art of the omelette.  Delia can't be wrong, and I thus I decided I must be, and thus I decided to make one.

I followed all Delia's advice: I used a lovely seasoned frying pan.  I used fabulously fresh eggs.  I made sure the pan was as hot as I dared and I worked diligently with my tablespoon.  I filled my omelette with cheese and the thingy that's as close to bacon as the Germans want to get.  I sprinkled my omelette lovingly with finely sliced spring onion and though I couldn't quite master the art of folding, I presented it gently on a nice warm plate.  And do you know, my omelette turned out beautifully.  It was golden on the outside and fluffy and soft on the inside, just as Delia dictated it should be.  My husband absolutely loved his.  Mine made me want to vomit.  Omelettes and I are, I suppose, just not meant to be.

Delia's Folded Omelette (verbatim, for Delia Knows Best)

Before you begin, have everything ready: bowl, eggs, omelette pan, fork, tablespoon, salt and pepper, butter and oil.  Put the plates in a warm oven.

1. Eggs

One omelette will serve one person and, because it is so quick to make, it's not worth cooking a large one for two.  So, according to how hungry you are, use two or three large eggs per person.  Just break the eggs carefully into a bowl, add a seasoning of salt and freshly milled black pepper, then gently combine the yolks and whites with a fork - don't overbeat them, combine is the word you need to think of here.  Under- rather than overbeating the eggs seems to make a fluffier omelette.

2. Oil or butter?

You can use either, but remember that butter burns very easily on a high heat.  Some oil will prevent this from happening so, if you like a buttery flavour, I would recommend that you use half a teaspoon of each.  For extra butteriness or creaminess you could add a teaspoon of melted butter or double cream to the eggs in the bowl.

3. Heat

Heat is a vital element in omelette-making because the essence of success is speed.  Begin by turning the heat to medium, place the pan over the heat and let it get quite hot (about half a minute).  Now add the butter and oil and, as soon as it melts, swiftly swirl it round, tilting the pan so that the base and the sides get coated.  Turn the heat up to its highest setting now - when I first demonstrated this on television I remember saying, 'hot as you dare', and that still stands.  

4. Cooking the omelette

When the butter is foaming, pour the eggs into the pan, tilting it to to and fro to spread the eggs evenly over the base.  Then leave it on the heat without moving it for a count of five.

5. Working with a spoon

After 5 seconds a bubbly frill will appear round the edge.  Now you can tilt the pan to 45˚ and, using a tablespoon, draw the edge of the omelette into the centre.  The liquid egg will flow into and fill the space.  Now tip the pan the other way and do the same thing.  Keep tilting it backwards and forwards, pulling the edges in with the spoon and allowing the liquid egg to travel into the space left - all this will take only half a minute. Soon there will be just a small amount of liquid left, just on the surface, so now is the time to start folding.  Tilt the pan again and flip one side of the omelette into the centre, then fold again.  Take the pan to the warm plate, and the last fold will be when you tip the omelette out onto the plate.

¹in Delia Smith's How To Cook, Book 1 (1998)