This morning, while proscrastinating, I came across a short BBC Comedy mash-up from a show which featured clips about a woman's love for cooking omlettes. And, it stuck me how long it has been since I had had an omlette. Growing up, I had omlettes pretty regularly. Our cook was a man who had started working for my mother's family from the time she was a girl. He had a heart of gold but cooking wasn't his strong suit. His cooking was so ordinary that I would survive by foraging in other people's tiffins at school.
Except his omlettes, which were really good. Yes, they were oily and one could argue that that was why they tasted so good. But, I remember those omlettes with fondness and they are a happy childhood memory.
Except his omlettes, which were really good. Yes, they were oily and one could argue that that was why they tasted so good. But, I remember those omlettes with fondness and they are a happy childhood memory.
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