Monday, April 17, 2006

You can't make an omelette

Full stop. That's the entire phrase when used in my company.

I'm not saying I'm a terrible chef; I haven't killed anybody (yet).

But I do like to make dishes that announce their readiness for consumption with a loud DING.

I'm not an avid consumer of microwaveable meals apart from when I'm on-call and the canteen's shut.
I've argued this with many people but unless it's breakfast time right now, toast is not a full meal. I grant you, it may be a pleasant, crunchy, mid-afternoon snack. Or you could be so busy that you have to skip lunch entirely, in which case by all means have some toast instead to keep you going. But - toast for dinner? Alone, apart from a 2mm application of whatever. Pah! Hospital patients eat better and their food's rubbish. Often literally. (Canteen motto - waste not want not...)

But I prefer to irradiate my food, rather than be involved with naked flames and ovens and the suchlike. Call me old fashioned...


In any case, I've gone against this and I've just made the perfect omelette.

2 eggs, a slash of oil, salt & milk. And then a load of sweetcorn, fried mushrooms and grated strong cheddar.
Bloody gorgeous. Just the right thickness, cooked just the right amount (ie neither surface was brown/black or transparent yellow and runny). Perfect meal. I feel terrific.

And a bonus, it didn't aggravate my MUFH (mouth ulcer from hell) so much that I had to stop & cry.

I blame my parents. I never cooked much when I was younger.
When I was six I once made some lovely biscuits. I was trying to make cakes at the time, but that's neither here nor there...


Anyway, I'm off now. I need the loo.

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