Weeknight Dinner: Omelette with Goat Cheese, Sundried Tomato and Herbes des Provences
When I first started writing Weeknight Dinner, I mentioned that the raison d'etre for this collection of recipes and dinner plans was finding myself, as we all do at some point, faced with the need to feed myself on a nightly basis. At the time, that meant the usual mishaps and, increasingly successes. For the successes, I thank a handful of kitchen influences: my grandmother, about whom I often reminisce; my dear friend Ellen, about whom reminiscences are forthcoming; and some great food and home teachers and writers. With Julie and Julia currently playing in theatres and Saint Julia's birthday recently passed, I have been thinking about Julia Child.
Like Julie in that movie and not alone among home cooks, I have cooked my way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking. My copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking came to me when I was still in high school. I don't know why, other than providence, it caught my attention at the bookstore in the mall, but it did. I asked for it for my birthday and so I received it with my grandmother's compliments. I can still remember the first dish I assayed: Cake Saint-Andre (Volume Two, page 490 in my copy), for the French Club dejeuner. Other kids and, unfortunately, some teachers thought it odd for me to not just read Julia's kitchen wisdom but put it into effect. I knew at the time was that I was good at cooking, and (again: thanks, Grandma) knowing that, and pursuing it, trumped any of the considerable bigotry in that time and place against boys learning to cook.
Moving from high school through college to graduate school took me and takes us to that first apartment, and my first kitchen on my own. It was a long, narrow afterthought of a room on the top floor of a half-derelict brownstone. When we moved in, the kitchen had an old-world enamel sink, a brown relic of a stove circa 1971, a clack-handled refrigerator, a garlic press from the 99 cent store that the previous tenant left behind, and a white tile floor that no amount of scrubbing could clean.
At that time, how comforting it was to unpack that copy of Mastering, open it up, and resume learning by doing. In that crummy kitchen, I learned how to frisee dough. Make vinaigrette. Sear chicken. Mash potatoes. Whip cream. Salt a roast. Make a quiche. Cook with fennel and leeks and garlic and herbs. Cook with wine. And, starting with egg dishes in the tradition of French cooking, I learned how to make an omelette.
Omelettes are an ideal simple supper, as elegant and relaxing as a stop by the cafe, where they are always on the late-supper menu. Like the signature dishes of most cuisines, making an omelette is a matter of mastering a technique and then making it your own. Chez nous, l'omelette de la maison is a graceful fold of frothy eggs, subtle with sea salt and roughened with black pepper, enfolding a snappy jolt of sundried tomato, a rich pillow of goat cheese just begun to melt, and a fragrant sprinkle of herbs. I serve it with buttered toast made from crusty bread and, since we're having a quiet French supper, a martini rouge or a glass of wine. It is the perfect end to a hectic over-scheduled weeknight; beckoning you tableside, to savor that supreme gift of French culture: the aesthetic of living.
OMELETTE WITH GOAT CHEESE, SUN-DRIED TOMATO AND HERBES DES PROVENCE
This recipe makes two omelettes; with practice, you will be able to make both in a few minutes. A non-stick pan and a silicone spatula are useful for making omelettes, but if you don't have them, use the pan and spatula you normally use for eggs.
6 large eggs
6 ounces sun-dried tomatoes
4 ounces goat cheese
3 teaspoons herbes des Provences
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Butter
1. Lay tomatoes on a cutting board and cut lengthwise into strips. Stack the strips and cut crosswise to form dice. Break the goat cheese into a bowl. Set the tomatoes, goat cheese and herbes des Provences on a cutting board and set the cutting board safely within reach of the stovetop.
2. Place a non-stick skillet on the burner and heat on low.
3. Break 3 eggs into a bowl. Add a sprinkle of salt and several grindings of black pepper. Use a whisk or handheld mixer to beat the eggs until frothy.
4. Turn the heat to high. Place a pat of butter onto the pan's surface; swirl to coat the pan as the butter melts.
5. Pour the eggs into the pan, using a spatula to get every bit of egg into the pan.
6. Swirl the eggs in the pan so that they reach up the sides. Settle the pan onto the burner.
7. Once eggs have begun to cook on the sides, swirl the spatula under the sides and push the cooked eggs to the middle of the pan. Let the uncooked eggs settle onto the outer edge of the omelet, swirling the pan if necessary.
8. As eggs begin to settle, scatter half of the tomatoes and half of the cheese across the surface. Sprinkle with half of the herbes.
9. As cheese begins to melt, use the spatula to fold one third of the omelet's edge onto the middle, and then fold the remaining third over that.
10. Use the spatula to quickly flip the omelet so that it is seam side down in the pan.
11. Slide the omelet onto a dinner plate and serve.
Like Julie in that movie and not alone among home cooks, I have cooked my way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking. My copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking came to me when I was still in high school. I don't know why, other than providence, it caught my attention at the bookstore in the mall, but it did. I asked for it for my birthday and so I received it with my grandmother's compliments. I can still remember the first dish I assayed: Cake Saint-Andre (Volume Two, page 490 in my copy), for the French Club dejeuner. Other kids and, unfortunately, some teachers thought it odd for me to not just read Julia's kitchen wisdom but put it into effect. I knew at the time was that I was good at cooking, and (again: thanks, Grandma) knowing that, and pursuing it, trumped any of the considerable bigotry in that time and place against boys learning to cook.
Moving from high school through college to graduate school took me and takes us to that first apartment, and my first kitchen on my own. It was a long, narrow afterthought of a room on the top floor of a half-derelict brownstone. When we moved in, the kitchen had an old-world enamel sink, a brown relic of a stove circa 1971, a clack-handled refrigerator, a garlic press from the 99 cent store that the previous tenant left behind, and a white tile floor that no amount of scrubbing could clean.
At that time, how comforting it was to unpack that copy of Mastering, open it up, and resume learning by doing. In that crummy kitchen, I learned how to frisee dough. Make vinaigrette. Sear chicken. Mash potatoes. Whip cream. Salt a roast. Make a quiche. Cook with fennel and leeks and garlic and herbs. Cook with wine. And, starting with egg dishes in the tradition of French cooking, I learned how to make an omelette.
Omelettes are an ideal simple supper, as elegant and relaxing as a stop by the cafe, where they are always on the late-supper menu. Like the signature dishes of most cuisines, making an omelette is a matter of mastering a technique and then making it your own. Chez nous, l'omelette de la maison is a graceful fold of frothy eggs, subtle with sea salt and roughened with black pepper, enfolding a snappy jolt of sundried tomato, a rich pillow of goat cheese just begun to melt, and a fragrant sprinkle of herbs. I serve it with buttered toast made from crusty bread and, since we're having a quiet French supper, a martini rouge or a glass of wine. It is the perfect end to a hectic over-scheduled weeknight; beckoning you tableside, to savor that supreme gift of French culture: the aesthetic of living.
OMELETTE WITH GOAT CHEESE, SUN-DRIED TOMATO AND HERBES DES PROVENCE
This recipe makes two omelettes; with practice, you will be able to make both in a few minutes. A non-stick pan and a silicone spatula are useful for making omelettes, but if you don't have them, use the pan and spatula you normally use for eggs.
6 large eggs
6 ounces sun-dried tomatoes
4 ounces goat cheese
3 teaspoons herbes des Provences
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Butter
1. Lay tomatoes on a cutting board and cut lengthwise into strips. Stack the strips and cut crosswise to form dice. Break the goat cheese into a bowl. Set the tomatoes, goat cheese and herbes des Provences on a cutting board and set the cutting board safely within reach of the stovetop.
2. Place a non-stick skillet on the burner and heat on low.
3. Break 3 eggs into a bowl. Add a sprinkle of salt and several grindings of black pepper. Use a whisk or handheld mixer to beat the eggs until frothy.
4. Turn the heat to high. Place a pat of butter onto the pan's surface; swirl to coat the pan as the butter melts.
5. Pour the eggs into the pan, using a spatula to get every bit of egg into the pan.
6. Swirl the eggs in the pan so that they reach up the sides. Settle the pan onto the burner.
7. Once eggs have begun to cook on the sides, swirl the spatula under the sides and push the cooked eggs to the middle of the pan. Let the uncooked eggs settle onto the outer edge of the omelet, swirling the pan if necessary.
8. As eggs begin to settle, scatter half of the tomatoes and half of the cheese across the surface. Sprinkle with half of the herbes.
9. As cheese begins to melt, use the spatula to fold one third of the omelet's edge onto the middle, and then fold the remaining third over that.
10. Use the spatula to quickly flip the omelet so that it is seam side down in the pan.
11. Slide the omelet onto a dinner plate and serve.
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