Man in Greasy Shirt 1 - an omelette

by Mike K-H

I miss Punch. I never subscribed to it, but I always bought it to read on trains and planes. I miss the witty and sometimes perspicacious articles, but in particular, I miss Hargreaves’ little wrens and Larry’s Man in Apron. .

Although I laughed, I often congratulated Larry’s hero on his lateral thinking, and when confronted with a culinary challenge I immediately think ‘what would Man in Apron do in this situation?’

In general, my recipes are more adventurous than Man in Apron would dream up, and I haven’t seen an apron around this house for a long time. Perhaps washing machines and modern detergents have rendered them obsolete, or perhaps it’s because we don’t expect people to dress formally for dinner any more. Anyway, I’ve decided to name this new culinary series Man in Greasy Shirt, and to use it to pass on some of my more successful or unusual culinary experiments. Like today’s efforts, for instance.

I’ve always enjoyed making omelettes, and I treat them like crêpes – as an envelope for any mixture that is likely to taste interesting. I have one rule: the center must still be liquid. I started to mistrust Edwina Currie at the point when she told all good citizens to cook eggs until everything went solid, and now that she has changed roles from Junior Minister to what she hopes is a Senior Author I need no further proof.

Which reminds me – like any normal teenager, I harboured doubts about my unproven virility, but I lost them all before my thirtieth birthday, so what is it about a significant proportion of all male politicians that makes them desperate to spear any orifice that comes within hailing distance?  I worry about leaving these critically insecure characters in charge of the world’s destiny. Yet, like it does with erring TV evangelists, the plebiscite wallows in the self-gratification of forgiving them.

Anyway, back to the omelette. It started off fairly normally.

The pan still had chicken fat in it, and I didn’t see a good reason to throw it away. You can cook an omelette in any grease that can be raised to a high enough temperature – it just imparts a different background taste and browns it differently.

I had a couple of mushrooms lying around, so I fried them lightly with a few mixed herbs before adding the salted and peppered eggs (beaten with a spatula – when I’m feeling energetic, I whip them to a froth). 

As soon as the eggs had formed a skin on the underside, I added cheese (in random thinnish slices – I don’t know where the grater is, and the cheese was a fresh gouda laced with stinging nettles, from a farm across the border in South Africa).

While there was still a thin liquid egg layer, I sliced in most of a tomato. Then I remembered that I had a fresh granadilla, so I cut the top off and emptied the contents onto the omelette before rolling it up and serving it, decorating it with the last few tomato slices. A slice of Ryvita Dark Rye with thick butter and marmite in one hand and a fork in the other, I dived in, chomping on a raw carrot from time to time.

Oh, and there was still a little wine left. 

Delicious.

Have fun. 

Back to All Articles Index