The Egg (and the Bird) and I

Omelets? Oh! They’re freighted with trepidation, even when we order them in restaurants, not to mention when we’re trying to cook one at home.

Will the exterior be cooked but not leathery, the interior moist but not gross? Will they fold properly or stick to the pan? And when the filling slides right out of them--what then?

And how do you ever get those floppy, unwieldy and already collapsing half-spheres of egg onto a plate without undue disfigurement? Engineers have struggled with this problem, designing special spatulas and pans that actually hinge in two. But nothing, nothing, nothing except acquired skill consistently produces a decent omelet.

At a short-order job in college, I learned how to cook omelets on a restaurant griddle, next to sputtering bacon and frying eggs. I’d ladle out eggs beaten hours before, corral their wanton spreading with a big, springy metal spatula, scatter grated cheese, chopped ham and/or pepper and onions down the center, then fold the side flaps of egg so that the finished product looked like a moist, plump legal-sized envelope. A summons to Denver, perhaps.

But real omelets--made in real omelet pans--continued to intimidate me. I’d try one occasionally, usually timidly, and sometimes I’d have a little luck. But I had no confidence, and I never would have attempted an omelet for anybody I might embarrass myself in front of.

Omelets, it seems, are among those commonplace dishes that require a certain technique to pull off. The truth of the matter is, just as in writing or painting or any of the arts, the only way to develop omelet technique is not through reading omelet theory but through practice, praxis, process. Making omelets. Breaking eggs, paying close attention to what happens each step of the way, being willing to fail--again and again--and asking for help when you get really stumped.

It wasn’t until I started making a plain omelet almost every day for my parrot, Helen, that I began to build some confidence in my technique. Nothing like having a captive audience.

I commenced this outbreak of omelet-making with a few good ideas. I once had a boss who cooked memorable omelets. His eggs always had a desirable moistness and density and integrity. His secret, which I immediately co-opted, was to beat the eggs gently, with a rubber spatula, just until the yolks and whites were blended, being careful that the whites still retained their elasticity. I remember him saying, “You don’t want to shred your eggs.”

Other cooks--very good cooks--have advised me to beat the eggs for several minutes, until they are pale and foamy, infused with air. While many good cooks prefer this second technique, I’ve tried it some mornings, and I personally have to argue against it.

Eggs that are beaten tend to be thinner, to spread out more in the pan and cook more quickly. Even stirring and scrambling them rapidly can’t restore the moist density and weight retained in barely beaten eggs. I also can say, with empirical certainty, that barely beaten eggs actually puff up higher than those allegedly infused with air.

I started out making omelets thinking I wanted their exteriors a golden brown, but it was the parrot, actually, that began to change my mind. Helen loves eggs and watches me with the proverbial eagle eye from the moment I pull an egg from the refrigerator, flapping her wings in spontaneous bursts of enthusiasm. She loves eggs so much she eats them shamelessly, her face buried in them, bits and flecks flying in her furious devouring.

Yet no matter how hungry she is, she leaves behind the blistery light brown skin--exactly that little filigree I had sought. Throwing away these pieces of refused egg, I realized how unappetizing they actually are. And I began to turn down the fire under my omelets, not letting the pan get so hot before pouring in the eggs--I wait until the butter just starts to foam--and then I cook the eggs at a slower, leisurely temperature.

I recently asked four French chefs to demonstrate their omelet-making techniques to me. What became obvious immediately is that there are no rules.

The first three cooks impressed me with an utter lack of fear: They broke eggs and set to with an intensity and sureness of movement that belied the queasiness I assumed was inherent in the creation of every omelet.

Annie Boutin, the director of catering for the Music Center and a noteworthy home cook, employs a technique precisely opposite to mine: She beats them with a fork because her mother used one.

She beats the eggs furiously for a long time (“to get some air into them”). She turns up the heat at the end of the cooking to make the outside golden. She isn’t intimidated by a large number of eggs and unconcernedly stirs a huge fines herbes omelet until it begins to set. She slides the omelet halfway onto a plate and then folds it over--a good move for those intimidated by executing this step in the pan.

Boutin’s omelet would probably not be a big hit with my parrot--that golden exterior again--but some of the tasters in the Times Test Kitchen pronounced it “absolutely delicious.”

Michel Audeon and Eric Mercier at Pastis, a neighborhood bistro on Beverly Boulevard, are equally swift and sure in their egg wrangling. Audeon prepares a truffle omelet. Three eggs, three black truffles and a few splashes of Cognac have been sitting in the same bowl encased in cellophane for a day. Egg shells are so porous, Audeon explains, and truffles so pervasive, that the truffles actually infuse the eggs with their irresistible, musty-metallic signature scent.

If you want to economize, or stretch your truffles, you can actually make a truffle omelet without even adding truffle to the eggs. Stirring in a tablespoon of the Cognac used to soak to soak the truffles adds extra decibels of truffle aroma. Audeon, however, generously minces up a truffle, sauteing it in butter while whisking the eggs very briefly.

His eggs retain a lot of elasticity; I can see it in how they move as a single mass in the bowl. He pours these thick eggs over the sauteing truffles and, using a rubber spatula, stirs them with exactly the same insouciance as if he were making regular old scrambled eggs.

When the eggs begin to set up, he calmly pushes them--really, it’s almost a grooming motion--into a nice round circle in the pan. Letting them set up just a bit more, he then folds them over part way. Finally, with a quick, clever movement, he lets the egg roll out of the pan onto the plate in such a way that the omelet is more rolled than folded. (Oh, he does have to tuck a bit under with his fingers to get the full effect.) The finished product is pale, flecked with black truffles, almost unbearably fragrant and oozing just a bit of egg.

The French like their omelets cooked baveuse, he explains, which means, roughly, drooling from both sides. The inside is indeed very soft and moist, which is perfect in my book, too.

Eric Mercier, a young chef who came to California from Paris only two months ago, makes an omelet souffle, a dessert omelet studded with liqueur-soaked raisins and filled with ice cream.

It sounds very fancy, but really, the big difference between an omelet and an omelette souffle is whipping the egg whites. Mercier whips them briefly with a pinch of salt to a very soft peak stage. He whips the yolks lightly, then beats in the raisins and a little sugar. In a 6-inch saute pan, he lets the butter turn the palest brown, then adds the eggs, scrambling them calmly and, when the heat seems a little intense, just moving the pan off the flame.

He finishes the omelet in a hot oven for half a minute, just enough time to make it puff a bit, then swiftly slides it onto a plate, sticks a tube of ice cream on it, folds it in half, sprinkles on powdered sugar and voila! Except for a few moments with the egg whites, making an omelet souffle is no more labor-intensive than making your standard cheese omelet, except that you should eat it as soon as possible to get the full hot egg/cold ice cream effect.

Down the street at Mimosa, another new neighborhood bistro, in a very small kitchen that smells wonderfully of wine, Jean-Pierre Bosc demonstrates a Grand Marnier omelette souffle with marinated berries. Here again, it is proved that there are as many techniques as there are omelet makers.

Bosc beats the egg yolks with the liqueur and grated orange rind for a very long time, maybe four minutes, with a whisk. “You want them turning white,” he says. The egg whites are beaten to quite stiff peaks in an electric mixer. So much for any minimal-handling approach! The only time Bosc is notably gentle is when he’s folding the whites into the yolk mixture because he doesn’t want to lose any of the whites’ volume.

When yolks and whites are blended into a pretty pale yellow, Bosc paints a large omelet pan with butter, then sugars it. He puts the eggs into the pan and the pan into a hot oven. “It’s going to be gigantic,” he promises.

While the omelet cooks, Bosc spoons berries onto plates, grows nervous, proving that even the best, most adept chefs are infected with the trepidation that making omelets inspires.

The omelet souffle comes out just fine, of course, browned ike a giant meringue. There’s a long, fraught moment, however: Will it come out of the pan? Is there a patch of stickiness that will pull the plug on the whole souffle? “I’m not sure it’s going to come out,” Bosc says, sounding like any number of home cooks hovering over rapidly setting eggs.

Actually, one small rim area sticks, but Bosc unconcernedly fits it all back together on the plate. The worst is over. Even as the gigantic, airy mass slumps slightly, Bosc serves it. Redolent of orange, soft, custardy on the inside, crisped with cooked sugar on the outside, these hot eggs are somehow perfect with fresh, juicy berries.

And the hardest thing about the entire enterprise was the last minute, a completely unnecessary and utterly characteristic lapse of confidence.

TRUFFLE OMELET (VEGETARIAN)

Michel Audeon adds a bit of Cognac to the eggs, with great results. And if you happen to have a big old truffle on hand, this is one way to use it--without even using it. Egg shells are porous, so if you store an egg in an airless container with a truffle (and, if you like, a little Cognac), the truffle will infuse the egg with its distinctive fragrance. You can add some shaved truffle to the omelet if you like--or not. We tried a truffle-less budget version of the omelet in The Times Test Kitchen with minced chanterelle mushrooms, which is, of course, different from Audeon’s omelet, but works well with the Cognac-infused eggs.

3 eggs

1 or more black truffles (optional)

Cognac

Salt

White pepper

Butter

1/2 black truffle or 2 ounces wild mushrooms, minced (optional)

3 to 4 thin slices truffle or mushroom (optional)

If using truffles, place eggs, truffles and 2 tablespoons Cognac in sealed container or bowl covered with plastic wrap. Refrigerate sealed container 2 days.

Remove eggs and crack into small bowl. Add 1 teaspoon Cognac and salt and white pepper to taste. Stir.

Melt 1 tablespoon butter in 6-inch saute pan. Add minced truffles, if using, and saute. Otherwise, add eggs when butter begins to foam. Scramble and smooth eggs until lightly cooked or to taste. Fold over and slip onto plate. Garnish with truffle slices, if using.

1 to 2 servings. Each of 2 servings:

180 calories; 302 mg sodium; 334 mg cholesterol; 13 grams fat; 2 grams carbohydrates; 10 grams protein; 0.21 gram fiber.

OMELET SOUFFLE WITH MARINATED BERRIES

This fluffy omelet from Jean-Pierre Bosc was the favorite among the tasters in The Times Test Kitchen.

2 cups mixed berries (blueberries, raspberries, strawberries)

5 1/2 tablespoons sugar plus extra for dusting

1 large sprig fresh mint plus extra for garnish

8 egg yolks

Grated peel of 1 orange

1 1/2 tablespoons Grand Marnier

6 egg whites

Butter

Sprinkle berries with 2 tablespoons sugar. Tear mint leaves and stir into berries. Set aside.

Beat egg yolks in large bowl with 1 tablespoon sugar and orange peel until they turn pale, about 2 minutes. Stir in Grand Marnier.

Whip egg whites with 2 1/2 tablespoons sugar until quite stiff. Gently fold egg whites into egg yolk mixture.

Using pastry brush, paint 10-inch souffle pan with soft butter, making sure every bit of surface and rim is covered. Dust pan with sugar, making sure all of butter is covered with sugar.

Pour egg mixture into pan; swirl top lightly. Bake at 400 degrees until well browned on top, 10 to 15 minutes.

Spoon berries onto 4 to 6 plates. Remove omelet from oven. Turn out onto large serving platter. Cut into separate pieces and serve over berries. Garnish with mint.

4 to 6 servings. Each of 6 servings:

207 calories; 85 mg sodium; 368 mg cholesterol; 10 grams fat; 22 grams carbohydrates; 8 grams protein; 0.87 gram fiber.

OMELET SOUFFLE WITH ICE CREAM

When Eric Mercier makes this lovely dessert omelet, he fills it with his homemade caramel-cinnamon ice cream and serves it on his own lemon sables. I’ve had good results using vanilla ice cream and slicing shortbread into thin shards for the cookie layer under the omelet.

3 tablespoons vanilla ice cream

1 tablespoon golden raisins

1/4 cup pear or other liqueur

3 eggs, separated

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

Salt

Butter

1 shortbread cookie, halved, or 1 lemon sable

Powdered sugar (optional)

Fresh fruit, sliced (optional)

Pack ice cream in tube or rectangle shape 1 inch thick, 3 inches long and freeze 2 hours.

Meanwhile, soak raisins in pear liqueur.

Whisk egg yolks; stir in plumped raisins, discarding any remaining liqueur, and add sugar.

Whisk egg whites with pinch salt until soft peaks form. Gently fold egg yolks and egg whites together.

Melt about 1 tablespoon butter in 6-inch omelet pan until foamy. Add egg mixture. Scramble and smooth gently as mixture cooks, making sure omelet stays round. When eggs are cooked but still quite soft, put in 400-degree oven for 30 seconds.

Arrange shortbread or sable on plate. Remove omelet from oven. Unwrap ice cream tube and place on omelet. Fold omelet over ice cream and slide folded omelet onto plate on top of cookie. Dust with powdered sugar and garnish with fresh fruit. Serve immediately.

1 to 2 servings. Each of 2 servings:

335 calories; 315 mg sodium; 341 mg cholesterol; 16 grams fat; 23 grams carbohydrates; 10 grams protein; 0.07 gram fiber.

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Kitchen Tip

The fluffy texture of souffle omelets requires more time to achieve. But because the egg whites and yolks are beaten separately, the number of egg yolks can be reduced or even replaced. For a three-egg omelet, separate the eggs and use 1/3 cup egg substitute instead of the yolks.