or a year and a half during my early 30s, I worked the brunch shift at Craigie on Main, a French-inspired restaurant in Cambridge, Massachusetts. My charge was the egg station, where I turned out the kitchen’s variant of a classic French omelet featuring tender, butter-yellow curds cushioned around substantial fillings such as mushrooms, crabmeat, and asparagus. Early on, it was a trial-by-fire gig: As I acquainted myself with the stove’s heat zones, I would shuffle the skillets—three to five at a time—around the broad steel cooktop, trying to pinpoint just the right spot to preheat the pan,
