A bit of background is in order. It was our first big weekend back at home after the holidays, traveling, our awesome NYE in Boston and two nasty stomach bugs, so we wanted to have some New York-style fun. E really wanted to see a movie [Ed. - Black Swan! It's really, really good--an intense Aronofsky tour de force], so we went to a matinée in Times Square and then had a late lunch at Katz’s Deli. This meant we weren’t super-hungry for a big Saturday night dinner, so we decided on a few tapas. E wanted another tortilla and I decided to have another crack at it, my last attempt being only marginally successful.
My part of the whole endeavor was a traditional Spanish tortilla (E had other dishes to make which she will elaborate on later). I used my mandoline, though it has seen better days, to give lovely thin slices of potatoes for the dish. For Christmas I had received a lovely nonstick skillet, perfect for eggs, but too small to brown 2 lbs of thinly sliced tubers and E was using the big saute pan, so I improvised…
It didn’t give them the awesome crisp of pan-frying in a cup of olive oil, but this gave the taters some color without tying up my range or risking an oily finished product. Once they were done, I moved them to the hot skillet with eight beaten eggs and a tiny amount of chopped rosemary and cooked until eggs were nearly set. Next, I had the difficult task of sliding the guy out on to a plate, then flipping back into the skillet, uncooked side down. Did I pull it off? Yes. Was it harrowing? A bit.
The tortilla was worth it. I don’t know how many more I’ll have to fiddle and flip and risk feeding to the floor before turning it becomes commonplace, but I’m willing to keep at it. At least until I botch a dinner or suffer a severe burn. So keep honing your technique, good readers. Until next time, cook on!