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Recipe Number Thirty Eight July 2006

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Well it's a been a funny old day, as the old shopkeeper used to say as he closed up his shop.  In our case, its been a funny old month you might say.  Yes - here we go again.  Its that time that happens once every four years.  Dare I say the World Cup - when normal souls are taken over by World Cup Fever.  Yes I was there in 1966 walking down Heacham High Street pushing my newly born daughter in her pram, and yes the High Street was deserted.  So you have guessed it - I am not a lover of football.  I don't know why but it has never done anything for me even when I was picked to play for my school team.  “Rushmore you will play right back.”  “Right back where Sir?”  “Never mind Rushmore just kick the damn ball if it comes your way.”


On a lighter note, it is happy fourth birthday to the commis chefs tattoo that he had done after a drunken stew.  “I love Amanda Holden and Beckham for ever”.  After spotting Amanda one day at Burnham Market I fully endorse that tattoo, but regarding the other one I have my reservations.

We are now well into the crab season, but the normal chuckle from the waiting staff of “chef’s got the crabs” has not been heard this year.  I am sorry to say, it seems that the fishermen from round Cromer way are keeping the crabs to themselves due to a bit of a shortage.  Other reports of the sea warming up over the last few years that the poor old crab can’t work out when to perform the mating act.  Then there are others that have put forward the idea that the shortage is due to an invasion of another crab that is killing off our local crab.  Whatever the reason chef, this year is what you might say “crab free”.

I was thinking the other day that as one gets older it leaves less time to do all those silly things that must be done before one pops the so said clogs - hang gliding, bungee jumping off the Blackpool Tower, climbing to the base camp at Mount Everest.  No, no, no, what I had in mind was getting up at the crack of dawn on the first of May and heading off to Knights Hill and watching the Morris dancers welcoming in the Summer.  As I rose from my warm bed I can tell you that the first day of May was raining cats and dogs as I made my way up to the hill in the early hours only to arrive as the Morris dancers were coming off the hill.  Have you finished?  “Yes mate”, came the response from a person that that looked like a drowned rat but at least I could mark it off my list.

The other thing that I wanted to put on my to do list was to fish a river on the very first day of the new river fishing season.  That started on 16 June - something that I have never done.  So, with this in mind, I decided to walk a river that I haven't fished since February when the season closed.  In February, the river in question was a sorry sight.  There was no vegetation on the river bank and no weed in the river, but as I viewed the river for the first time in three months, mother nature had done what mother nature will do best if left alone.  The river has once again come alive - gin clear water takes the place of muddy, weed once again takes its rightful place in the river, trees that line the river provide coverage with their leaves for fish to hide under.  Yes, the river has come back to life.  Already I have spotted a few good size Pike in the river  -now the only question is “Will I be up at three in the morning?”

As I walked back along the bank I was still thinking about the World Cup.  What made up a normal World Cup fan and what made him or her tick?  So I decided to ask the one and only commis chef with my list of questions.

The commis chef, whose knowledge of football surpasses his knowledge of any other sport and proud to fly the English flag, gave me an insight in to a fine upstanding English supporter.  Point number one is that he owns and drives a French car, he watches a television that was made in Japan, sits down on a chair that's made in Sweden, checks the time on his Russian watch, then he pulls up his jeans that are made in the USA, sips a German beer as he tucks into his Indian take-away.  At halftime he’s decided that it's a tad warm in his flat so he opens the window only to admire a window box full of French marigolds.

The World Cup Omelette

When we serve omelettes in the restaurant people ask me how is it that they are light and fluffy.  Its not rocket science but you do require the correct pan when making the omelettes and that is one that you can put in the oven.

This dish is just the thing to cook at half time so on your marks and here we go.

Take three eggs and crack into a bowl whisk them up with a little salt and pepper.  As I am making a plain cheese omelette I will add just a little of the cheese to the raw eggs and mix in, get your pan and pop it on to a good heat so it gets nice and hot, draw off the heat and add a little oil of your choice - not too much.  Replace pan back on to a high heat and add a small knob of margarine, not butter as it will burn in the very hot pan.  Add the beaten eggs.  Now with a fork move the mixture around slightly in the pan add more grated cheese to the omelette and then place the pan into a very hot oven to cook.

The cooking time will not take long it depends on how you like your eggs. But at some stage the omelette will become all fluffy and ready to remove from the oven.  Please be very careful and use a dry hand cloth (never ever use a damp cloth as heat will travel though it).  Carefully remove the pan get a plate ready.  There is no need to fold your omelette.  With the aid of a knife, slip it around the pan and with the pan tilted at an angle the omelette should slide onto the plate.

Serve with French fries, Russian salad, dressed with a little Italian olive oil.  A nice slice of German rye bread, and maybe a nice warm glass of Dutch beer.

I am off now to cross another thing off my list of things to do.  Yes I am off home to watch England play football and make a great omelette at half time.

Its easy to make a bad omelette but not so easy to make a good one.

But its like we say:

Vorspung Durch Technik!

Colin Rushmore

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