Divagación culinaria numero tres

The Egg and Potato Winter:

Once upon a time, a few decades ago, we were very poor newlyweds. My husband was having probably the second or third midlife crisis--he was under thirty at the time! He had quit a cushy government job and we were struggling, picking up whatever work we could get, working construction on a nuclear plant; night shifts at the steel plant, bartending and on, and living in a little shack with a chemical toilet and a woodstove which threw so much heat that we had to have the doors and windows open in the depths of a Northern Ontario winter. This is not to say we weren't happy. But we were very, very poor. I remember the memorable phone call from VISA, or my husband's half of it anyway, wherein he explained to the woman on the other end of the phone that she would just have to get in line with the other creditors. We used to joke that we were so poor that we were nearly "pure".

That winter we subsisted on two things, three if you count ketchup. Eggs, which at that time were less than a dollar a dozen, and a fifty pound bag of EXCELLENT potatoes, which we obtained for the princely sum of $9.99. Eggs and homefries, homefries and eggs.

I am reminded of that winter when I eat tortilla espanola, a dish wish makes a virtue of necessity. Everyone can get their hands on some eggs and some potatoes, fry them with a little onion in oil, but not everyone can raise a simple potato omelette to culinary treasure. Tortilla is ubiquitous and esteemed in Spain; for breakfast, in a bun for lunch, on a toothpick as tapas, warm or cold. When I am in Spain, it is one of the things I like best. Its always different, and always delicious. Sometimes it has additional ingredients, like peppers or cheese, in which case it gets called tortilla francesa, but I love it best when it is a thick cake crammed with soft slices of potato. Simple, toothy, and satisfyingly filling.

I decided to try my hand at it the other night, working from a traditional Spanish cookbook, written by a Spanish expat, in English. I followed the recipe to the letter, horrified by the amount of oil called for; my potatoes browned slightly as directed, and with the addition of an extra egg because it didn't seem like it would hold together.



I even carried out the tricky bit, flipping the half cooked concoction to brown the top, by inverting the pan over a plate and then sliding it back into a freshly oiled pan. It looked great, and tasted pretty good, though I think more onion and salt were called for. But it wasn't what I remembered!



Next I checked out a video on the topic, (it was this one):



and I could see where I'd gone wrong. Even more oil and less browning of the potatoes were required. In a couple of weeks I'll try again. I don't know why it is so important to me to try to bring these experiences home with me; nostalgia is a mysterious and powerful force. Although I never want to be that poor again, homefries and fried eggs with ketchup brings back that feeling of youth and adventure, and that ALWAYS tastes good.