I once lived with a woman who thought she could capture the world through her cooking. Her heart was in the right place but…
I remember waking up one morning to the high-pitched scream of a blender. It was a horrible sound at 5:45 in the morning. The shrill whirl was a rude awakening much worse than an alarm clock. With an alarm clock you at least have the option of shutting the damn thing off. That blasted blender must have run for 20 minutes, maybe more. Meanwhile, I could hear Elma singing the lyrics to “Happiest Girl in the Whole USA.” For those of you under 40 who don’t know, that song was the ultimate female “feel good” tune some years ago.
When the blender stopped that morning, along with the fifth rendition of that song, I was summoned downstairs to breakfast. (I use the term breakfast loosely.) As I slowly made my way down the stairs, my stomach began a steady counterclockwise turn. It was a signal I had learned to respect when it came to Elma’s cooking. And my stomach was once again right on cue. As I ambled into the kitchen, there before me, as grand as a mother sow suckling her tiny pigs, stood a large glass of a concoction consisting of a green, frothy liquid. The fluid looked like 200 grasshoppers, with a hint of dirt, blended to perfection. If you’ve never seen 200 grasshoppers, with a hint of dirt, blended to perfection, the color was a cross between pea soup and ham gravy. It looked beyond disgusting.
But probably worse than the color was the way it smelled. The odor was somewhere between stale beer and cat pee. I can’t tell you what she had mixed or how it tasted because as Elma proudly carried her “breakfast” to the bathroom to sip as she built her day face, I poured mine into the cat dish.
That turned out to be a deadly mistake.
Puss Puss, a yellow-haired stray cat I had taken in, lapped hungrily at the off-colored cocktail. I couldn’t understand why she lapped so furiously at the strange mixture but decided that if she liked it than “what the hell.” It was only after the cat finished eating and began cleaning her whiskers and paws that I noticed a peculiar look in her tiny green eyes. Puss Puss sat squarely on the floor and alternately looked at me and the empty dish, her head circling in a dizzying motion. I immediately felt bad for feeding the strange brew to her and knew no good was going to come of it. And I was right. Starting in her face, the cat’s entire body began to balloon. I opened the sliding glass door and tossed her into the grass, fearful she might detonate. I never saw poor Puss Puss again. My fear of her exploding, however, was realized two weeks later when I noticed tiny strands of cat hair hanging from the pussy willow tree in the backyard. That discovery was the end of both Puss Puss and Elma. It wasn’t hard getting over Elma, but to this day each time I pass the pussy willows I think of poor Puss Puss and pout. And to this day I hold great disdain for grasshoppers.
Mexican Omelet
Milk
Butter
2 American or cheddar processed cheese slices
Salsa from a jar
Garlic powder
Pre-heat a medium to large frying pan over low heat. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter slowly. As the butter is melting, in a mixing bowl crack the three eggs and add a splash of milk. Now, a splash of milk is not pouring it in, it’s not adding a drop. A splash of milk is taking your carton and tipping it for about 1 second. That’s a splash. Once your milk is added, take your garlic powder and add about 2 to 3 good shakes. With a whisk or fork, mix everything until well blended. In other words, you’ll have one uniform color.
By now your butter should be melted. Add eggs to pan. Turn up your heat just a tad and cook the eggs until they are nearly set. This will take a few minutes. Don’t get impatient and crank up the heat or you’ll burn them. To help the process along, once the eggs begin to set, take a pancake turner and lift one of the edges of the egg and tilt the pan so the runny egg on top runs to the opening you’ve left. Do this all the way around the pan so it drains evenly.
When the omelet is almost set, (you can tell when there is very little loose egg left) imagine cutting the whole thing in half and spoon out about 3 tablespoons of salsa making a line down one half of the eggs. Rip your cheese slices in half and lay them over the same half of the eggs, covering the salsa.
Now the tricky part. With your pancake turner, very carefully fold the egg in half so that the half without the filling covers the half with the filling. This might take some practice but it’s quite easy once you get the hang of it.
When you have the egg folded, cover and turn off your heat and let the omelet set for about 7 to 8 minutes to allow the salsa to heat through and cheese to melt.
I guarantee it will taste better than a grasshopper shake.
