Fridays during Lent can be tough. First, you have your what-I-gave-up-for Lent thing going on, which can be hard in it's own right, if done, correctly. I have to avoid the chip aisle at the grocery now for 40 days, and look away from my favorite tiny sample bags of chips at check out. If I see them, the back of mouth aches and I salivate. There are no fainting couches at Kroger check-out lanes, so I have to look away and pretend they are not there.
Fridays are another matter. Meatless Fridays. Sounds innocent enough, although I work in a restaurant and there is meat everywhere. Last year, I failed my solemn Lenten vows by tasting innocent food nibbles that area purveyors had brought in for samples. Buttery-hot & sticky chicken wings? Why, of course. Porterhouse steak, perfectly char-grilled to medium rare with a pat of maitre' d butter? Why yes, I'll have a bite of that. It was ridiculous. I was in confirmation class, no less, trying to follow all the rules leading up to the Great Easter Vigil.....and my confirmation by the Bishop.
Taken down by a chicken wing. Sackcloth. Heavy boots.
So far, this year has been better. One down. I was looking through Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc At Home for inspiration and found this beautiful recipe for grilled asparagus with butter-toasted croutons, topped with poached eggs. It didn't seem substantial enough. Not meaty enough.
We opted for omelettes with home fries. I make a pretty mean omelette. Not the fancy ones I learned in school. Not the ones that Julia Child jiggled about in a saute' pan until they magically formed into naturally and perfectly turned out omelettes. Mine are the working man's omelette. Big, fluffy egg vessels, full of mouthwatering cheese-dripping goodness.
I have a gorgeous pan used only for omelette making. Michael gave it to me years ago. It is used for nothing else.
I bring the eggs to room temperature, season them with freshly grated nutmeg, and whip them with water. Not milk. Milk can make them tough.
(If I have chives growing out back, I'll mince them finely and add them to the eggs.)
After the butter begins sizzling in the pan, I add the eggs and push the sides toward the center, tilting the pan to let the eggs flow underneath. When almost cooked through, I add the ingredients, top with a lid to melt, and roll the omelette onto a plate.
Last night, Michael made the home fries. His are far better than mine. Perfectly cooked, salty, crunchy, and soft on the inside. A great companion to the bursting omelette.