It always involves some hair-brained, dumb thing that I do, or neglect to do -- like watch the pan while it's on the hot stove. Evidently, this week was That Time again, and I am down an eight inch round vessel of egg-making bliss.
It really shouldn't be a big deal, how mad I get at myself when it comes time to kill my omelet pan. It's. Just. A. Pan. You go to the store and get another one, right? But it's just not that simple for me. I...I can't believe I'm about to say this...but I ADORE my omelet pan, whichever one I possess at the time before I destroy it. I develop a relationship with it. I know what temperature it likes best from the stove. I know which of my spatulas fit the bottom of it. I treat it well (until I don't), and in return it yields perfectly cooked food (until it can't).
Also, if I do say so myself, I make a mean omelet -- and scrambled eggs too, for that matter. I can trace my eggy expertise back to when I was six years old. I was tall enough to see over the counter top then. My favorite breakfast to eat before I went to school was a scrambled egg sandwich and a cup of hot tea with sugar and Pet Milk. One morning my mom taught me how to make my own eggs. (At least I think it was my mom. It might have been my Granny. I'll ask Mom and see what she says. Anyway...)
*Crack an egg into a bowl.
*Add a splash of milk or Pet Milk (because that's what Granny always bought).
*Beat them with a fork.
*Put a little pat of butter in the hot pan (Mom handled the hot pan business until I got a little older and more trustworthy at the stove.).
*Pour in the egg and throw in some salt and pepper, and stir it every-so-often until it's as done as you want it.
Voila! Add a slice of buttered-and-jellied toast and you've got the breakfast of champions :) Oh, and some bacon or sausage if you have it. Even better. But my favorite way to eat the egg was between two slices of lightly buttered toast, no more, no less. And hot Tetley tea.
OK -- I'm just drooling and daydreaming now. Back to my pan.
What in the world did people do before Teflon was invented? The pan I learned to cook eggs in was a cast iron skillet. It was my grandmother's, and God only knows how old it was when I used it 33 years ago. It's bottom was slick and was actually easy to cook eggs in. I guess back then nonstick = really old cast iron.
The omelet pans I used over the next several years are kind of a blur, but I know I had a decent one when I was a college student living in an apartment. By my closest friends, I was KNOWN for my omelets. I even hosted a few Omelet Parties. I'd have a few ingredients -- mushrooms, tomatoes, cheese, ham -- and people would tell me what they wanted in their omelet and I'd whip it up for them. I surely killed a pan or two back then, although I can't recount any gory details (no comment there!).
Then I got married and acquired a good omelet pan. I don't remember the exact circumstances, but I know I left it on the hot stove eye -- no food in it -- I was heating it up and got sidetracked and forgot about it. Burned the heck out of it, too. So I went to Target (I like to pronounce it "Tar-zhay." Do you? Or am I one of about four people who do that?) and found one made by "KitchenEssentials from Calphalon."
Here it is:
I hate to see it go. The handle is comfortable, it's made really well, and simply put, I just like the thing. Earlier this week I was using it to heat up some frozen "seasoning blend" -- a mixture of red and green bell peppers and onion -- all chopped up together. I keep that on hand to add to pasta or soup or omelets, of course. This particular time I was going to put my seasoning blend on my barbecue baked potato. I had put the pan on the stove with a lid on it, and went outside to water my herb garden. If it had rained like my weather man had said it would, I would have stayed close to the stove and watched over my beloved pan. But the rain fell everywhere in the county except on my yard. So as always happens every decade or so, I had put my trusty omelet pan on the stove only to get sidetracked by Life and I burned it slap up.
And it makes me sad, for the time being at least. I won't cook eggs in anything else. Eggs and omelets are the ultimate comfort food for me. They're familiar and wholesome. They remind me of my childhood. They're my go-to staple, whether cooking just for myself or my whole family. And they deserve to be cooked in a decent, well crafted, nonstick, eight inch omelet pan, by gosh.
Look out, Tar-zhay -- I'm coming.
