Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published July 9, 2007 Omelette The quest for the perfect omelette has gone on for me from the time I ate my very first one, at the Camellia Grill, in 1968. The idea of an omelette is very appealing: a couple of eggs fluffed up and cooked into a matrix that can enclose almost any other food. Even sweet things can be incorporated into an omelette. The omelette is the only egg dish that we frequently eat outside the confines of breakfast. In that, we join the other cultures of the world; only in the United States and the United Kingdom are eggs thought of as primarily a breakfast food. Even so, it's rare for omelettes to be offered at dinner, although that might be the best time to eat them. Cooking omelettes sounds simple, but it isn't. Very few restaurants cook them well--and restaurant cooks make them far better than most home cooks. That's because tiny differences in the way omelettes are cooked result in major differences in flavor and texture. The best omelettes in my experience came from French chefs, most notably Gerard Crozier, Daniel Bonnot, Michel Clavelin. Plus all the chefs at Brennan's. All their works had some things in common: They were moist throughout, but runny nowhere. There was not a spot of brown anywhere on their exteriors. They tasted distinctly buttery. They were fluffy, but still substantial. The inner ingredients merged nicely into the matrix. Here is what those chefs did that resulted in their perfect omelettes: They started with a rather large amount of eggs, all whisked together. The eggs were at room temperature right before cooking. They used about a tablespoon of hot clarified butter. The heat remained high, and the cooking time was measurable in seconds. The eggs were never touched once they were in the pan. All this is was done with wrist action with the pan, including the folding-over process. I would classify that skill as not unrelated to the skill of a musician, and requires some practice. The specific motion is a jerk of the handle of the pan that results in the layer of egg closest to the bottom moving away from the handle, while the still-liquid egg on top flows across the edge of the congealed egg closest to the handle, down to the pan surface. After about ten jerks, coming at the rate of about one per second, all the egg has set, yet none of it has been in contact with the pan long enough to scorch. The jerking motion doesn’t come naturally (although one chef likened it to a certain move that men learn at about the age of fifteen.) The inability of most restaurants to accomplish this is what moved me to learn how to cook. I had to start doing them myself to get omelettes the way I liked them. For a long time, my omelettes were not the way I liked them, either. But I knew exactly how I wanted them, and after a lot of experimenting I finally got the touch. One thing I learned: a non-stick pan is a tremendous help in making good omelettes. The restaurant that is best known for omelettes--the Camellia Grill--cooks the exact opposite of my ideal omelette. They whip the eggs into a light froth, and so the result is outrageously fluffy but dry, browned, and everything else I don't want. Once you have the egg part of the omelette down, you’re home free. Figure out what might taste good to you inside an omelette (or what leftovers you’re trying to get rid of in a savory way), and there you are. My own favorite omelette is one made with some ingredients that we will have in great supply in the coming weeks: fresh Creole tomatoes and fresh basil. Plus a tangy cheese like feta or ricotta salata. I just fold those into the omelette when it comes out of the pan, so they're still cool. For ingredients that would taste better hot, I like to add them to the eggs while they're still in a liquid state, to come up with the unfolded, Italian frittata. Which has the advantage of being a bit easier to make.  I still find omelettes challenging and interesting, both to cook and to eat. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com