A 30-Year-Old Egg

   Hallowe'en is coming, and you know what that means? Eggs. Worse than getting TPed, I've never actually seen a house get egged, short of perhaps in a movie scene. But apparently it's a thing, and it's partly the only reason I'm bringing it up in conjunction with All Saints' Eve.
   Now, I don't like eggs, but I'll eat them. And you'll note here my favorite way to eat eggs, at least when they're explicitly present in a meal. But, strange as it may be, when we go out to eat and I am in the mood for eggs, boiled is hardly on the menu. I've actually tried to order them at least thrice, with responses that ranged from the obvious "we don't have" to the humorous "you mean for a salad?" Needless to say, I regularly order omelettes instead.
   I've actually been in the habit of eating omelettes since college, where the food seemed endless and I actually had time to eat breakfast after my first class. Everybody's favorite chef was Omelette Guy, where he'd give you every option imaginable for him to craft your very own 3-egg omelette. The nutritional value was always a question but never an issue in anyone's mind.

How Not to Make an Omelette

   I faintly remember having made an omelette before, but knowing how memories work and the likelihood of the whole thought being fabricated, plus the fact that I have no photographic evidence of it, I've probably never made an omelette before. And that actually makes me feel good, because the specimen you're about to see is so idiotic, I would have no excuse for its concoction had I succeeded at it once.
 

March 12, 2016 - Level Zero Omelette

   Allow me to explain my thought process in the initial stages of this obvious faux pas. I was so psyched that I was to create my first omelette that I forgot the single most important step: whipping the eggs. I cracked the shells, peeled them apart, poured them into the sizzling pan, and voilà! started to think that something was amiss. As the thought settled in my mind, I went into the other room to admit my mistake to Jes, who seemed to know instantly what the problem was. I mean, there are very few ways you can fail at making an omelette, especially within the first seconds of sizzling.
   Well, not being a fan of sunny-side any-which-way eggs, I stabbed it all with my trusty spatula and made my first batch of scrambled eggs. Of course, I'll still refer to it as an omelette because that's what it was meant to be. The fact that it looks nothing like one was simply an error en route to the plate—or, in this case, the bowl.
   I know it doesn't taste any different from an omelette, but its appearance sat in the back of my mind as something not so appetizing. I mean, look at that third quadrant: It's so fluffy! It looks like a Peep exploded into a hundred pieces. And I'm not even a fan of marshmallows, either.
   Well, since Jes was practically forcing me to eat my  words  works, I just had to douse it in flavor first. You know, to mask the egginess. She suggested hot sauce, and I had to admit I didn't think of that; ketchup or Worce-ster-shire were the first condiments to come to my mind. But I reached for the spice cupboard, considered the soy sauce, brought down a tiny bottle of coconut flavoring, took a whiff and smiled—all while Jes had to leave the room because she couldn't bare to see what I was about to do—and decided on hot sauce after all. There's just something about that vinegar-cayenne mix that works with just about anything.

More Whisk, Less Risk

   Soon, I returned to my weekly breakfast skillet with more confidence in my ability to keep to the code—that being, beat the eggs before you cook them. I know; it's like common sense for an omelette, and if I were reading a recipe, I'd hardly miss that step, but trial and error is as proper a teacher. And, that said, this time still had room for improvement.
 

March 19, 2016 - Mushroom-Swiss Omelette

   I was much happier with myself when I pulled this together: broke 2 eggs, brought out my shootin' hand to mix yolk and albumen as best as I could, then poured the smooth concoction into the buttered pan and tilted it around to fill out the circle. I know the tricks for making pancakes, but this was something new for me, and I still haven't mastered the technique of knowing when to flip it. Maybe my spatula wasn't big enough, or maybe I did well enough and I'm just kidding myself. But the thing that sets this omelette apart from the next is, once again, some amendment of the first step.
    I had my ingredients all prepped from the get-go—tomatoes, mushrooms and (I believe) sliced Swiss cheese—but the reason I piled them high in, once again, that third quadrant was simply because it's how I imagined making it at the time. Now, there's nothing wrong with building an omelette like that. It tastes about the same, given those particular ingredients (i.e., vegetables). But the egg became a blanket to the filling, its taste separate and still-so-eggy, something I don't particularly enjoy in my eggs.
   Folding this over also proved meddlesome in that I can never decide proper ratios for combining flavors. I know, it's nothing a simple recipe can't fix, but that's just not my style. Good cooking had to start somewhere; it wasn't always mathematical ledger, right? Besides, it's not like either of these came out inedible. They were simply not as good as they should have been.

Living on the Ejjeh

   Which brings us to my final omelette of the year (thus far, at least). Once again, still not the "best omelette you've ever had," but definitely, in the line of Saturday-morning cooking, the best yet crafted by yours truly. Even Jes made the face of approval when she had a bite of it; it's almost as if the mushrooms inside weren't even there.

October 16, 2016 - Ome-Roulette

   There are a few things I'm proud of in this meal, but let's start with the list of ingredients. Lately, it's easy for us always to have eggs on hand. But what else should go into an omelette? Whatever you have in the fridge at the time could work out in your favor. I like to limit myself to about three additions, one of which is cheese. The type of cheese mostly sets the tone for the end product, and therefore the other two choices. I'm not a fan of this shredded, pre-packaged stuff, but for ease of use and—especially in the case of cheddar—decency upon melting, it was probably the best option we had in our deli drawer at the time.
   The first thing to hit the pan, on this particular day of trial, was a delicate dab of leftover bacon grease. Home-prepped lard. I'd heard it was the proper start to a meal of eggs, but honestly never having had a traditional plate of eggs and bacon, this was the closest I'd ever be to that standard of a presumably purposed pairing. As soon as the whole thing melted on medium heat, a steady swish to coat the whole pan was met with the next level of eggs-traordinary tips. (If you thought I was above that, I've got news for you.)
    While whisking the 2 eggs this time around, I mixed in the other two ingredients: finely chopped mushrooms and a handful of asparagus tips. Not only did this make crafting the omelette easier, I believe it helped hold the egg together (fancy that) when it came time to flip. As the topside now cooks, the cheese is added to optimally fill a semi-circle or full circle, but for some reason I opted for burrito-layering. No matter. The end result would only be missing cheese in a few bites.
 

October 16, 2016 - Ome-Roulette

    After folding and plating, not only did this taste vaguely familiar, but it also looked like the little egg-patties of my family's tradition, ejjeh. Which, oddly enough, I'd always enjoyed. Probably due in part to my preference for eating them cold. Those egg-parsley rounds were always easier for me to stomach than, say, a fresh slice of quiche (pronounced kwee-chay). Anyway, as much as this omelette tasted good dry, I still like adding condiments to them. This one saw a splash of ponzu—basically a lemon-soy sauce that followed in line with the refrigerator roulette aspect of this meal.

Summer of Shrimp

   In the order of foods that are simple to cook, there are vegetables, pasta, and shrimp. If you want to test your culinary skills, especially in regards to flavor combinations, pasta and shrimp are definitely bland enough to stand as that structural base at the center of the meal, or to serve as a finer element in a larger setting; and while certain vegetables can be used likely, many find themselves imparting the flavor and/or vibrancy to a dish.
   I talked about this before, but I'll repeat it here because this is the model post for all things shrimp. When purchasing raw shrimp, there are several avenues to choose from: farmed/wild, whole, peeled, cleaned—not to mention all of the sizes available. But, by far, the most talked about decision only makes sense in theory.

Fresh or Frozen?

   Fresh seafood doesn't get fresher than catching it yourself, especially when considering commercially available items. That is why, particularly seen in the case of shrimp, "frozen at sea" is common practice. So common, that the supermarket display will either label shrimp as "never frozen" or they won't tell you because they're ashamed to say it was frozen but is now thawed. If you're purchasing the thawed variety, it makes little sense to put them back in the freezer when you get home. But personally, if the choice is between "never frozen" and specifically "flash-frozen," I choose the latter, because it is actually the fresher.
   The science of flash freezing was discovered, researched, and reinvented time and time again by a man named Clarence Birdseye II. The company which bears his name—Birds Eye—has been on the market for nearly a century utilizing his patented techniques which he initially applied to the seafood industry and later moved onto other meats and produce. What Birdseye realized was that fish frozen, not only immediately after being caught, but more importantly in a quick fashion tasted fresher than conventionally (at that time) frozen fish.
   Thirty years after its conception, the term "cryogenics" would refer to the process of applying temperatures well below 0 degrees Centigrade. I bring that up in case it helps in understanding just how fresh we're talking. It's not how soon something is frozen; it's how fast. And if you cringe to consider comparing a fresh cut of meat or fish with its frozen counterpart, it's because you're all too familiar with those conventional freezing methods, and the texture of such foods once they are thawed. 
   When food freezes, ice crystals form around 0 degrees C and continue to grow at a rate relative to that of heat removal. Various foods freeze at different temperatures due to salt content, fat content, etc. The longer it takes to totally freeze something, the more time ice crystals have for growth, and larger crystals cause more damage to a food's integrity. Thawed foods that were frozen at a slow rate are noticeably mushy, bleached of flavor, etc., for this reason. For a bit of perspective, the concluding paragraphs of this article explain that shrimp in an industrial plate freezer at -35 degrees C takes 50 minutes to become optimally frozen, while shrimp treated with liquid nitrogen at -80 degrees C takes only 5 minutes to reach the same end. And that's just for shrimp; a 90 % drop in time is about par for other seafood tested.
   Flash freezing stops the clock on decay quicker than air-blast, belt freezers, and plate freezers, and that without ruining the texture of the product. Fresh foods keep the clock ticking until it's time to cook. And while fresh produce may be better than frozen, flash-frozen seafood is definitely above the rest.

Bubba was Right

   "Shrimp is the fruit of the sea." Bubba listed 21 ways to prepare shrimp, and while I'm sure there're more, I haven't scratched the surface with my trials. Shrimp are delicate in flavor and texture. They're modest enough to receive only a spritz of lemon, or to be dipped in a mix of ketchup and horseradish. But they can stand up to much hardier seasonings, and that is a truth which continually sparks new ideas whenever I consider cooking shrimp for a meal.

November 14, 2014 - Shrimp, Scallops and Pan-fried Linguine

   This marked the first time I cooked shrimp. I don't know if you can tell, but their shells are still on. Yes, I prefer shell-on shrimp, but don't worry: they're deveined. However, leaving the shells on for a sauté is probably the biggest faux pas in cooking shrimp. It's like seasoning a burger on a grill without removing the wax paper. I cried manly tears as I peeled the delicious chitinous wrappings from their overcooked muscles.
   For that first try, I kept it simple with salt, pepper, garlic powder, fresh onions and [old] bay leaves. The pan probably started with oil and ended with white cooking wine, and after all that effort, the frozen spinach ended up the best part of the meal. But, you win some, you lose some. I can tell you this: I never forgot to peel them again.
   In addition to their downright versatility, shrimp are very easy to overcook, which in my book means they're easy to cook, period. As you'll see following, raw shrimp have a much different color from cooked shrimp (those above are near done). Raw shrimp are also translucent, like many fish, and they turn opaque when fully cooked. These visual cues are very important when judging how long to cook shrimp. Overcooked shrimp will not only be noticeably tough and/or chewy, but you'll also be able to tell just by looking at them.

Pot Ramen

   This is it: the meal I've been alluding to since October. You remember. I broke into my frozen reserves to make broth for the first time, and was so dedicated to my work that I strained it using paper towels. Well, they'll make another cameo here, soaking up the water from thawed, peeled shrimp as their shells moved on to give flavor to my gumbo base.

January 10, 2015 - Shrimp Ramen

   I can't say where my fascination with adding hard-boiled eggs to ramen began. Ponyo probably served as some inspiration for it, when they animated some of the traditional ramen toppings—those being soft-boiled eggs, however, did not deter me. For this recipe, these were prepped the day before as part of my trials in egg-peeling techniques.

January 10, 2015 - Shrimp Ramen

   Jes likes pictures like these. While I can't affirm that the seasonings did anything for the final product—the shrimp ultimately finding its way into soup—points must be given for trying, right? That said, the broth was the real star that day (recipe found here). Having all the flavor of vegetables and spices, the only thing required was to add salt while reheating.

January 10, 2015 - Shrimp Ramen

   Unfortunately for the broth, ramen got more screen time. These pre-cooked, instant noodles are the only ones I know, so you'll have to forgive me if I've done a disservice to traditional ramen-eaters out there. It's no different from any other pasta I cook with, presently, but I do admit: while boiling them in the broth may have been a wise choice, storing the leftovers in it was not. It's not the first time I lost all of my liquid in a soup, but I hope it was the last.

January 10, 2015 - Shrimp Ramen

   Any instant-noodle soup I've ever had always included scallions. But, since I'd used leek greens in making the broth, I thought this was a prime way to use up the "leek whites" that were left over. The leek base is much more tender than scallions, and milder in flavor.

January 10, 2015 - Shrimp Ramen

   Time was my nemesis here, as always. Looking at this, the two components of the meal's title are definitely overcooked. Don't get me wrong; it tasted good. But tough shrimp and soggy noodles could have been better approached. As I told myself when I first made this, if it gets a remake, I'll cook the ramen separately and add everything to the broth when it's time to eat.

Other Recipes in this Series:
Shrimp Stock
Shrimp Gumbo
Deconstructed Shrimp Alfredo