I am featured on my favourite website this morning- The Kitchn. Click here.
Zain, my husband and I never go out for brunch on weekends — because Saturday and Sunday are the two days when he gets deep into the kitchen and prepares all sorts of omelettes for us. We call them “farmers’ omelettes” because they are prepared with whatever is in our fridge that particular morning (no farm here, sadly). Some days it is caramelised shallots and roasted tomatoes with brie folded in, which softly oozes out with each bite; other days it is mushroom, thyme and Swiss cheese. And there is always a little bit of caramelized garlic in them.
One morning, in the mood for an omelette in the Italian manner — a frittata, I entered the kitchen with Zain to prepare it. He took out Roma tomatoes, Irani feta and the fresh herb of the week, tarragon. Zain peeled the roma tomatoes with a potato peeler while I whipped the eggs. After pouring a few globs of olive oil into the frying pan, I added the chopped Roma tomatoes. Over a slow flame, as we sipped our cardamom tea, the tomatoes slumped and yielded, becoming soft and jam–like. In went the eggs and as Zain swirled the pan with a flick of his wrist, I added lots of soft, creamy, crumbled Irani feta. As it began to come together along the sides, we transferred it under the broiler for ten minutes. Flipped over onto a plate was a thick circle of eggy goodness—a sort of savoury custard, garnished with strands of fragrant tarragon. And since we had just returned from Istanbul, we had to give the frittata a dusting of pul biber, the prized semi–moist, red chili flakes from Turkey. We scooped up the custard–like frittata with our favorite pumpernickel bread using our hands.