Omelette night, Omelette night, Ain't no night like Omelette night.
Last night, five friends rushed me to the hospital (or "Medical Center," as the less iron-stomached of the crew called it)-- not for a surgery or because we crazy college kids had dared one of us to jump off something stupid, and not because we (read: I) wanted to see (read: snatch) some newborn babies,
but because we were hungry. Rumor on campus was that once a month, a fantabulous chef comes to the Medical Center buffet to showcase his egg-cracking skills.
Why I didn't take my camera, I'll never know--you'll have to take my word for it. We were there an hour and a half before the event opened, and it was a good thing too, 'cause the line was ridiculous! The entire town of Provo shows up--accompanied by a slice of humor and good will, because the chef is almost more well known for his sharp tongue and wit than for his cuisine.
About half an hour before they let us in, he poked his gigantic, imposing bald head out the door and hollered, "If any of you are trying to get an omelette for someone who isn't here, you can just FORGET IT! I'd be here all night making two for each person, so just SHOVE OFF!"
All this for an omelette? I don't know, you guys...
My anxiety rose as I suddely remembered the fact that celiacs know well: Eggs are not always a safe bet. IHOP puts pancake batter in their omelettes for that gigantic fluffiness, and judging by the door-jarring response, I couldn't exactly expect this guy to be warm and cuddly about working with my disease.
I may have mentioned my misgivings because next thing I knew, I was being passed body to body and jerked to the front of the line, for a face to face with the chef-from-heck! Yikes! Turns out a friend-of-a-friend (and the chef-from-heck's niece, wouldn'tcha know) is the sweetest person ever and got me a one-on-one with the boss. I found him to be quite civil when discussing his art, and learned that the eggs were fine, but chicken, sausage, hashbrowns and guacamole were all designated as "out."
Plenty of ingredients remained, however, to result in a more than satisfactory omelette. Green peppers, tomatoes, ham, red peppers, olives, onions, mushrooms--even cashews and strawberries?!--and of course, enough cheese to stop up an elephant.
I discovered that this was not just any omelette--It was absolutely the largest omelette I've ever set my beady, greedy eyes upon.
It was, actually, larger than me.
For only $3.75, that's a delicious meal and rare deal that no starving college student should pass up.
Or not look forward to.
For an entire month.
Omelette night, omelette night...
Apparently I was way more excited than Brian was about my omelette-- but, I'm sure, this was just because he had not yet tasted of the sweet, sweet omelette goodness. Don't worry, he was completely converted by the end of the night.
Aaaaaand a closeup of the omelette (cuz that's what we REALLY care about, and who is this BOY?! --love, Mom):
Yes, those are strawberries--I did tell you that you can put anything in them.