I know I said a week ago that I would never again make eggs in the traditional manner. Well, that went out the window last night when all there was were eggs, and I had been reading about omelettes all day long, and I had a big hunk of roquefort in the fridge and some excellent bread left over from the night before. So I mad a bad-ass roquefort omelette that wasn’t worth photographing, and it was enjoyed thoroughly by all.

I’m obsessed with this book, Julia and Jacques Cooking at Home, and I got plenty of good advice in it yesterday. First of all, I never turned the heat up high enough before while making an omelette. They had me turn the heat as high as it would go and let the butter get really hot before I put the eggs in. I was afraid it would burn the eggs, but they weren’t even brown by the end (that’s a good thing in my opinion). Once I put the eggs in I began shaking the pan furiously, finally trying to get the omelette to fold over on it self against the lip of the pan. That didn’t work without a bit of nudging with the turner, but once I have more practice I’ll go all the way. Is that how you do it, mom?

When the eggs were still runny, I turned off the heat, covered the pan, and readied the plates and toast. What a simple and delicious dinner! And the smell of melted roquefort and egg really reminded us of France, as ridiculous and snooty as that sounds. But when roquefort was 10€ per kilo, I ate it three times a day in various forms. Le fromage des reines, as it were…