scrambling the egg

It turns out there is an art to scrambling. I had, hitherto, treated scrambled eggs much like I treated omelets, cooking them over high heat for a short amount of time with one tablespoon of butter. But research conducted before a Sunday brunch for visiting family shamed me--I've been doing it wrong. The differences between omelet and scramble are, it turns out, great.

Omelets proceed from lightly beaten eggs--no more than forty strokes. Scrambles benefit from aeration, so it is preferable to whisk them into submission. I prefer in both situations to allow the eggs to rise to room temperature before cooking, should time allow.

The high heat used in omelet preparation helps establish shape and consistency in a single omelet. The texture it returns is fluffy, but it is also a decided and whole structure. Even without filling, the omelet still tastes like a sandwich to me, and this gastronomic metaphor actually helps one evaluate omelets. I dined the other week at Murphy's, a Virginia-Highlands mainstay that has usually returned palatable fare during my time in Atlanta. I believe, in fact, that it was the first restaurant I ever went to, back when I interviewed. I ordered the special omelet, which promised Berkshire ham and, well, something else that I can't remember now. The ham was great. The eggs... not so much. It was flat, slightly browned, and far too big. The result was joyless eggs, much like a sandwich on wonderbread. I picked the ham out.

For a scramble, the heat should be medium low. I've experimented with my front burners between 4 and 6, and found that 6 is definitely too high. (Note: try the back burners, where low heat can be controlled better.) Once the butter has melted in the pan (1 tbsp for 2-3 eggs), add the eggs. Then start whisking, and prepare to whisk for 3-4 minutes. As the eggs cook, they will separate into curds. The whisking helps aerate and keep the curds small. The result is not fluffy, but creamy. The texture is something more akin to polenta than an omelet. They are phenomenally good this way, and they can be dressed after completion with butter, chives, or any other herb.

The best scramble I have made so far I did in my metal saute pan. I stuck to metal because it allowed me to use a metal whisk. When I used the nonstick pan, I used a rubber spoon and swirled the eggs. The curds were larger when I did this, and although the eggs were tender, they were not as good.

There are two drawbacks to cooking eggs in this French fashion. The first is specific to the scramble, and is merely the trouble of cleaning a metal pan in which eggs stick. The second problem covers both, and is a problem of texture and taste. Once you begin to realize how heat, applied in different ways, alters the same core ingredient to produce variation, you become aware of how awful most eateries really are. I am reminded of a scene in Grosse Point Blank where John Cusack orders a plain, egg-white omelet at a diner while in a silent standoff with Dan Akroyd, who has just ordered poached eggs. The waitress, oblivious to the fact that the two are pointing guns at each other under the table, asks Cusack what he wants in his omelet. Cusack asks for it plain, and the waitress objects that it can't technically be an omelet without a filling. I can't do the scene comedic justice, but it says something about the quality of the writing that I can only now appreciate its humor fully. Omelets are not about filling. They are about eggs. And my recent disappointment at Murphy's is all thanks to understanding just how different are different kinds of egg preparation. Alas!