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Lynn Deasy is a freelance writer, author, foodie, and garden tinkerer. She lives in a 600 year old house in southern France with her husband, Christophe. Currently, she is looking for a literary agent for her memoir CA VA? STORIES FROM RURAL LIFE IN SOUTHERN FRANCE which examines the oddities of French provincial living from an outsider’s point of view through a series of adventures that provide more than a fair share of frustration, education, admiration, and blisters…. yes, lots and lots of blisters. Lynn blogs every Monday, Wednesday, and sometimes Friday.

Friday, July 22, 2011

The French Omelet

A French omelet is a light, savory, and delicate dish.  Simply little more than eggs, butter, and a tiny bit of filling, it is ultimately pristine with its unblemished golden yellow color.

An omelet made in France is often scrambled eggs made with any leftovers in the refrigerator, from rice to spaghetti to meat and vegetables.   It is the complete opposite of what took Julia Child 11 pages to explain about omelet making in Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Therefore, when Christophe announced “an omelet” for dinner, I was quite surprised to find parts of my roast chicken and rice from last night’s dinner floating in the scrambled eggs.  He explained, “A family style omelet is a way of using leftovers without serving the same thing twice.  They are quite popular and I ate them all the time growing up.  It’s a way of cleaning out the fridge.”  Great, but I was disappointed not to get the creamy rolled eggs everyone raves about.

In all honesty, this is a clever use of what’s at hand, but, I was hesitant when Christophe plopped the plate down in front of me.  When I was growing up, my leftovers were served to me as they were made, and with eight around the dinner table, this sometimes meant bartering for the leftover meatloaf instead of the tuna casserole.  That is how I knew leftover, and that is how I liked it – at long as I didn’t get the tuna casserole. 

Truth be told, Christophe’s omelet was quite tasty, but one day, I wouldn’t mind being served an omelet à la Julia Child, just to say, “Yes, I have eaten a French omelet and not just an omelet made in France."  After all, no other country I know has elevated the gastronomic bar so high that a masterpiece dinner can be created from a single, humble egg.

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