The joy of omelettes


It’s easy to forget about omelettes, and I often do, partly I think because they are a bit ‘mono’ for supper, as in lots of one thing, a bit like risotto, that you might tire of halfway through.

However, once in a while, when I am asking Tom what we should have for supper and he says ‘omelette?’ I remember their glory. Omelettes for supper come in to their own when a) they are cooked in lashings of butter, the kind of quantities you’d never allow if you gave two hoots about weight gain or cholesterol, b) you’ve got some kind of exciting filling already cooked in the fridge eg cooked sausages, roasted peppers or any roasted veg and c) no matter what else is in there you add cheddar cheese.

Personally, I fear the presence of albumen so greatly that I request that Tom (who is the omelette chef of the house and who has got the technique down so brilliantly that it feels wrong to even attempt it myself) cook it to within an inch of it’s life. I know this is technically wrong and probably quite unsophisticated but I have made peace with my fear of under cooked food and nothing (eggy) could be more pleasing to me than the sight of a blatantly overcooked omelette waiting on a board (because it is too big for a plates to be eaten.

We generally have ‘threggers’ (as in, three eggs). This is because I am always, always on the lookout for leftover potential and quite often put a third of my omelette, uneaten, into a tupperware for tomorrow. This is the kind of thing that I would never, ever have considered doing before I crossed into the Special Needs Food spectrum, but now feels like planting a little seed of hope for those moments when I am looking in the fridge, yearning to eat something I don’t have to actually cook because I really cannot be arsed. However, just as often as I leave some in the fridge, I eat the whole thing up because it’s so delicious I actually can’t help myself. These omelettes were for brunch, but if you serve it with lettuce and tomato and home-made mayo – or even a dollop of pesto, or guacamole – then it can transform itself into supper rather than breakfast. Best of all, it takes about six minutes to prepare and cook and there is only one pan to wash up.

Obviously, there are loads of ways to make omelettes, and it’s harder than it looks (which is why it’s the ultimate test for a new chef in a kitchen). I personally favour the non-elegant, overstuffed omelette that is substantial rather than a tease. But that may well be to do with the fact that I I have not eaten bread or potatoes for six years so always try to avoid feeling hungry.

The only thing I would add is that since we invested in an omelette pan (the kind of thing I used to think was unnecessary – isn’t a pan just a pan?) our omelettes, got a lot better. You can get them quite cheaply and if you are serious about welcoming The Omelette into your life, it’s worth the space it will take up on your pan shelf. That is all.


Three eggs

Salt pepper

Grated cheese

Whatever filling you fancy from spring onions to roasted veg to ham and cheese


If you are cooking your filling eg mushrooms, or spring onions, then sauté those with oil or butter in a pan before you start the omelette.

Whisk the eggs, get the pan sizzlingly hot, add a large knob of butter and pour the eggs in, easing the edge of cooked egg into the middle with a wooden spoon every few seconds, then tilting the pan to fill in the edges with uncooked egg, distributing it evenly. After a minute or two, sprinkle in your cheese and filling, then cook a bit more – very much according to how soft you like your omelettes. Serve by slipping half of the omelette carefully onto a board, then flipping the second half on top with a flick of the wrist.

Serve with salad and tomato, or guacamole if you can be bothered.





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