Lessons from my first omelettes – 01/23/2024 – Haja Vista

The year 2024 started with a big change in my eating habits.

Sandwiches with sliced ​​bread were out and they were dinner, omelettes were in.

Until that point, there were many times when my girlfriend insisted that I should eat better until I changed the menu. I agreed, but what to do? Ordering food out every day would be expensive. Nor did I know how to do great things in the kitchen that would nourish me reasonably.

Confident, I assured that one day I would certainly learn to do something better, especially when it wasn’t just for me. In fact, it was fair, correct and necessary, the time when men didn’t cook was over. He even swore that he had been an exemplary student in Independent Living Activities classes for people with disabilities, he would even say he was an expert in peeling and chopping. Believe it or not, one day I even did it hidden under the supervision of the teacher.

But, you see, one day I need to set up a well-organized kitchen in my own way, with the right equipment, well-organized utensils, seasonings labeled in Braille so I can find them. Furthermore, I need to study a way to discover the point of food. How will I know if it’s ready? How long does each thing take? How do I use the oven without burning myself? Did you see how much work? But I know it can happen, it will happen.

Until she decides to be more incisive and sends two links to omelette pans for sale on my WhatsApp. One with a better price, the other with an advantage in customer reviews. I did what I was supposed to do, and the next morning the equipment arrived at the house.

I anxiously waited until her next visit to find out if the whole thing would work out. Without much conversation, we went straight to the kitchen.

For lack of a better utensil, I separated a deep plate and two eggs. I hadn’t broken one for over a year and we would have eaten a version of an omelet with flakes of shell along with it, if she hadn’t been watching.

We continue to map the challenges, some of which we had not even imagined yet. We soon realized that a deeper plastic bowl would be better, so that nothing would spill while I mixed the egg white and yolk.

Next, it was necessary to transfer the mixture to the omelette pan which, according to the manual, should already be on and very hot. We soon realized that it would be very difficult for me to aim at the two compartments of the device with that plate to pour the liquid. One of the two would either burn me or make a lot of mess. Probably both.

I opened the device from time to time and used a fork to feel the density and texture. In addition to timing yourself to get an idea of ​​how long it took to be ready. However, in the end, we also didn’t figure out how I could get my dinner out of the device without hurting myself or ruining everything. There was little space to insert a cutlery, and as soon as I managed to drag something under the omelet, it mischievously slid to the side.

In the end, our dinner was great, the omelet came together nicely, but there was still a lot to improve. After all, the intention was for me to do everything alone.

We woke up the next day at the neighborhood store that has everything for the house, from the doormat at the entrance to the clothes peg in the laundry room, as well as buckets for playing on the beach and computer equipment. We left there with new spatulas, measuring cups and a plastic jug with a spout so I could stir and safely pour the eggs into the device.

Romanticism aside, we repeated the dish the following night. With what I learned the day before, I already knew how to crack the eggs by making a bigger crack, which made opening them easier. With the new container, there was enough space to stir what was in the jar, which was perfect for turning the liquid inside the device without throwing anything away and from a safe distance.

As nothing is perfect, the omelette kept slipping off the spatula, which it still does today. There have been more than ten attempts, all very tasty, and my dinner continues to gracefully escape me.

The temporary solution has been to position the plate on one side of the appliance and push the food into it as clumsily as possible. I didn’t go hungry or throw anything on the floor.

As I think about everything I’ve learned in the kitchen, imagine the cakes and pasta I’ll make, and, even further, reflect on how joyful discovering safe and affordable ways to accomplish new tasks can be, an audio message arrives:

“Honey, I went to the market. I found a silicone tong in the utensils section. It has two little claws. By squeezing it, you’ll be able to pick up the food. It might work.”

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