When faced with the prospect of an extra shallot and some leftover tarragon from a béarnaise sauce made the day prior, the only thing to do is whip up a fluffy French-inspired omelette. When faced with a sunny but cool Saturday morning, the best thing to do is to enlist the help of your husband. In truth, this was a joint effort. I sautéed the shallot and tarragon in some butter, found an extra mushroom to add to that, and then handed it all over to Andy, who made it into an omelette, flipped it and reversed it or however you create the fold-over magic, and it was done.
Taking it out onto the backyard patio, I set up a lovely little brunch scene, marred only by a little garter snake who wanted to join in the festivities, giving me a heart-attack and Andy some entertainment in the process. Another sign of the impending apocalypse. First ducks, then an opossum, now a snake. I shudder at what’s next. A bear? Bears are sweet. Besides, you ever see a bear with forty-foot feet?
When I’ve segued into Sondheim, it’s time to take my leave.
