How To Make An Omelet For Tuesday Night Supper
I usually come to the decision to make an omelet at the tail end of a long mental journey, winding my cranky way through four hundred and ninety two reasons not to cook tonight. I get home and wonder what’s for dinner, but get no answer because I’m the one who chooses food in this house. Really, omelets aren’t my favorite food to eat, just a few bites and I tend to go into egg overload. I love the idea of eggs and omelets, but can’t digest it as easily as other proteins. Still, I make one every couple of weeks. Last night I came to my choice by way of a photographic walkabout through the gardens.
Come on, I’ll show you what I mean…
When I got home, Chris and the kids ran out to do an errand and left me with the task of feeding the chickens, but when I started out, the evening light filtering through the trees seduced me. I ran back in for my camera.
The lettuce grew a full inch today, I swear, and I’m salivating just thinking about the salads that are growing in these boxes. So far, no major bug problems like last year. Should I make salad for dinner?
The only lettuce in the house is an ill-conceived head of cello-wrapped iceburg that I bought in a moment of culinary nostalgia at Giant Eagle last week. As I recall, I thought it would be nice on tuna fish salad sandwiches over the weekend, but they never materialized, and there it sits in its flavorless, almost crunchy glory. I think it’s going to be chicken food any minute now. We do, however, have small amounts of leftover pasta salad, Asian cole slaw and white bean salad. Hmmm…what to round that out with…
Not carrots, yet, though check it out! I have never, ever, EVER had a successful crop of carrots. Soil too heavy with clay, not deep enough and weed-choked. I spent half an hour on Sunday plucking weeds from between the seedlings and these suckers are thriving. When I say plucking, I mean just barely giving the weeds a little tug and the entire root system sliding gently from the soil. Glorious. I wonder how deeply the carrots will grow in this soil—a thick layer of composted chicken manure and straw, on top of decades-old humus.
Right behind the carrots sit two small asparagus beds. The few spears that came up (only about 40% germination rate, boo hiss) have all turned to dainty ferns of dusty green. Just have to get through next summer without touching them, then these babies have a date with the grill. And my taste buds.
Next stop, the chickens. Hey girls! What do you think I should make for dinner? Clearly the garden isn’t putting out yet, but she’s warming up, showing us her bra strap and just a wee bit of cleavage, don’t ya know. Ladies, ladies, I’m at a loss!
What’s that? Eggs you say? You’ve got nine more sitting in the nest just waiting for me? If I don’t get in there and collect them you’re going to start eating them again? No, no. Bad girls. No eating your unfertilized, potential babies.
Hmmm…let me think about eggs for a few more minutes while I check out the scene next door.
You know, I’m so in love with this trellis method. I sent Lila scavenging around the yard after a wind storm and used up all of the dead fall. Now the peas are really starting to climb, and I’m watching like a hawk hanging over a meadow for those flowers to appear. Nothing yet. Pretty though, aren’t they? Especially this time of day.
Mmmmm…freshly-weeded chard, looking so jaunty and glowy. Wait! That’s it! I have a vibrant enough looking bunch of organic rhubarb chard in the fridge. Chard… and eggs… an omelet! Not all home grown, but still pretty good for a woman who doesn’t much feel like cooking, and can’t stomach take-out. Okay, just a few more beds to check out.
Here’s a late comer asparagus fern, a teeny, tiny one. Maybe they’ll put up more next year, even the crowns that did nothing this spring. I’ll have to throw down a little more manure.
I see the pests are finding the buffet, something is munching on the potato leaves.
But not all of them, these All Blue are looking incredible. Oh, early potatoes, how I look forward to your pure garden taste on my tongue with a pat of butter, sea salt and cracked pepper…maybe some fresh parsley.
Maybe next year, followed by a bowl of ripe, juicy raspberries?
Isn’t it dreamy? Only four of the six canes are developing leaves, and I need to get the supports built soon.
Look! A cucurbit of some kind. I didn’t make note of what I planted where, so this could be Costata Romanesca Zucchini, Green Tint Pattypan or Yellow Crookneck. We’ll soon find out. See right next to it? That insistent leaf? Violet. She’s everywhere. Well, let’s not stray away from our happy place, shall we? There’s supper to make yet, so let’s go tell the girls.
What? Have I surprised you, ladies? Not sure what to do with the intruder? Shock and Awe via Nikon! But seriously, I’ll be taking your suggestion, and your eggs. Thanks for the inspiration.
But, oooh! Look at that! I left a few weeds at the top of the carrot bed the other day and will you look at what they turned into? Looks like I won’t need to buy any more tomato plants for the new bed, I’ll just reposition these volunteers and get them busy making whatever nightshade extravaganza they’ve got up their green sleeves.
Okay, enough, enough. We really do need to get down to the business of making that omelet. Back inside, post haste!
First thing, set the skillet on the stove on low, low heat. Wash the eggs, ten please. Eight will certainly do, but ten looks so much nicer in this bowl, I think.
Let the eggs sit for a moment while you chop half an onion and sauté it lightly in a tablespoon each of extra virgin olive oil and unsalted butter until just turning golden. Add about 1/4 cup minced red bell pepper and three large handfuls of washed and chopped chard. Let that sit on top of the onion, still on low heat with a sprinkle or six of kosher salt and cracked pepper.
Now bring your attention back to those pretty eggs. Crack them into a bowl, enjoying the thick and clean crunch of the shells, the solid, firm, orange yolks bobbing as you add more. Now whisk them with a few tablespoons of water. Look at that liquid sunshine. Wait! Is it morning or evening? I smell bacon.
Set the eggs aside for a moment while you give those veggies a little stir, then head out to the garden with scissors to snip some fresh herbs—thyme, chives, parsley and oregano ought to do the trick. Give the last two a quick rinse and make a note to throw some mulch down around them, they’re quite mud-splattered, you messy gardener, you! Now chop them, not too small, and toss in with the chard, giving a quick stir.
Goodness, just think, in a few weeks we’ll be making this one with chard from the garden. Hoo boy, such sweet promise! Now gently pour that bowl of golden goodness into the pan.
Pretty, isn’t it? Sprinkle some shredded hard cheese like Romano or Parmesan on top, cover and let it cook for about 15 minutes on the lowest, lowest heat. Check it after ten minutes to make sure it’s not cooking too fast. It should be solid on top and fluffy when done.
Serve it with whatever else you have in the fridge that likely won’t last another day. That’s what I did and even the picky eater ate it. Not, of course, without complaint, but she gets that from her mother.
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It’s a 
"All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar."
~Helen Hayes
