Here I am.
Staring down at my plate. No, no, staring is even too soft a word for this.
Eye-balling at the miettes on my assiette.
And then it hits me.
Why the fuck did I cook omelette?
I hate omelette.
To be fair, it's not really an omelette. You'd think that it was more of a really sad, handmade attempt at an ommlette. If I was an amputee, say with no arms whatsoever (a bit like that man I saw the other day at the Belleville Markets), it would be acceptable to call it an omelette.
Earlier, in one of those inspired moments, I grab three or four eggs, my 250 EUR/kilo chives, a tomato and a too generous amount of blue vein cheese. I mix it all together. It looks like liquid magic. This is going to work out, methinks. In fact it will be so delicious and irrestible that if I lived in pre-revolutionary France, it would be the kind of dish that you would only present before King Louis'.
I cook it on one side and a nice bottom skin forms. As I go to turn it over, I realise that I have no egg slice. None at all. This is what happens when you get to a CROUS appartment and have not been informed that there is no cutlery, towel, bed linen etc. You continually have to go out and buy kitchenware.
Not to worry, says that high-pitched optimistic voice in my head. Just use a wooden spoon and you'll be John. That's not actually an expression, but I take my lead from Hamish and Andy.
It's ok, I'll just use my wooden spoon.
This is diaster. I've turned it on itself and now it will burn on the outside and be an eggy goo.
There is only one sad, but enivitable solution. I, in a staccato manner, flail the wooden spoon around the pan and end up with something that highly ressembles dog sick. Well, if dog sick had a much too large percentage of blue vein cheese in it.
I eat it anyway, but if I'm being honest, the blue vein just takes over. I discover that it cannot be tamed even with pan-fried bread (this is what happens when you fry stale french bread, because you have no toaster).
And at the end, when the optimistic voice fades to a whisper, another voice, but much more domineering and bass snickers and vocalises (also probably not a word) snidely a certain doomful expression.
HEAVE HO!
