I didn’t sleep well last night. It wasn’t my usual insomnia, but several hours of nightmares fueled by this week’s binge of Homecoming on Amazon. I got up well before sunrise feeling distinctly unrefreshed, had some coffee and went to my office to work until I heard the guys start moving around, at which time I went to scare up some breakfast.
I don’t know why, but I feel I should explain that I did not jump up and make breakfast because I am the only woman in the house and it’s my job. I currently live with my husband, two grown sons, an uncle, and my dad, and we mostly share cooking and cleaning duties; not evenly, but fairly and according to ability and interest. I will post more about that later. The thing is, I was awake, they were waking up, and I felt like cooking them breakfast.
Also, I had a “great” idea for an omelet. We had some pickled eggs left over from the Thanksgiving relish tray, and I thought it would be kind of cool to make a pickled egg-filled omelet. Doesn’t that sound great? It doesn’t to me because I hate eggs, but I thought it at least sounded interesting, and maybe a bit meta.
I whipped up a couple of eggs with a tablespoon or so of milk and poured it in a pan of hot olive oil. I chopped up a pickled egg, a bit of pickled pepper, added a bit of pickle juice… So far, so good. Right? Right??
I added the egg and pepper to the scramble, added some American cheese because I thought good cheese would be too salty, and let it cook. Topped with more cheese, served with buttered toast.
My youngest and the most ardent fan of my cooking grabbed a fork and yelled, “Dad, are you gonna come try the vomit omelet?” He took a bite, and then another. And accepted my offer to make him a plate of scrambled eggs sans pickles.
My husband choked down the omelet. I don’t know whether it is because he hates to waste food or because he wants ammunition, but I’m certain it’s not because he fancied a pickle omelet.
My takeaways are twofold. 1) I should not try to invent new recipes when I am not well-rested, and 2) If there is not a recipe for something on the Internet by now, there’s probably a good reason.