10/06/21
My mother's omelettes are slightly overdone but always generous in cheese and well-seasoned. My omelettes are just the same, though more often slightly underdone and less carefully considered. And like my stories, they come in many forms. You might get one late at night, after a little too much wine and alongside a little too much information. I might spend a long time on one that's just a touch extravagant. And many are for the people I care about most, thrown together and with more cheese than is strictly necessary.
Collected here are things I've done, things I've seen, things I've thought, and most importantly, things I've tasted. They're slices of parts of my life. Call them omelettes, if you like. I hope you enjoy them.
