Friday Fuck Up: An Unsettling Omelet
I know, I know. How could I fuck up eggs?
Believe me, as I pushed each sad bite into my mouth I thought the exact same thing. I’ve made this dish before with great success. Well, a version of the dish. Last time I wanted to create an open omelet I played it safe: whipping up an egg, letting it set, adding cheese to finish. See, it’s beautiful:
I even wanted to use the same plate, commemorating its success. I thought this iteration would work even better, but somehow my eggs became mushy, grainy, just not right.
I started this dish by slicing a tomato and laying the disks on a warm pan with some butter. I then whipped one egg and added in Dijon mustard, goat cheese, a splash of water and stirred it together.
Okay, the water. So when I first learned to cook my Aunt Jodi told me to add a splash of water into eggs when making an omelet. She said it produced a fluffier version. I didn’t really understand why, but I did it. And when I remember, I still do.
When my tomatoes softened, I poured in the egg mixture. Right away I could tell something was off. It was gooey. It wasn’t firming up. I then threw it under the broiler, hoping to set the egg and give it some crisping. But after 3 or 4 minutes, which is usually plenty of time for my monster of a broiler, the eggs still weren’t set.
But for fear of over-cooking, I pulled them from the heat. The eggs had cooked, but didn’t turn into a satisfying consistency. At all. Fuck.
(Happy Birthday Mariah Carey!)