The Art of Cooking Omelettes

By Romaine De Lyon

The chef behind NYC’s legendary Mme. Romaine de Lyon shares her secrets, stories, and more than 500 recipes for exquisite omelettes.

For sixty-five years, Madame Romaine de Lyon made a name for herself at her eponymous Midtown restaurant where she served only eggs. Romaine dedicated herself to the perfect execution of the omelette, winning world-wide acclaim and a loyal following of celebrity customers. Even the great Julia Child recommended The Art of Cooking Omelettes as the ultimate authority on this classic egg dish.

Madame Romaine de Lyon presents an homage to the omelette and her life as a cook. With recipes for more than 500 omelettes, she demonstrates how to elevate each one into a culinary works of art. With charm and wit, she also recounts how she came to America with nothing and built her renowned restaurant.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Feb 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781648371226

Book preview

Mirne vode

Copyright © 1963 Madame Romaine Champion Introduction © 2013 Echo Point Books & Media

Published by Echo Point Books & Media

www.EchoPointBooks.com

ISBN: 978-1-62654-950-0

Cover photography by Karl Hutchinson: Flickr.com/photos/whateverthing Contact:

Karl Hutchinson Photography

[e-mail]

Cover design by Adrienne Nunez, Echo Point Books & Media

Printed in the U. S. A.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter One

How I Came to Be an Omelette Maker 9

Chapter Two

How to Cook an Omelette 39

Chapter Three

Omelette Recipes 51

Chapter Four

The Salad 140

Chapter Five

Wine with Omelettes — and without 144

Chapter Six

Some Notes on Omelette Eaters 148

Index 157

Recipes shown in the text in small capital letters may be found by consulting the Index.

          INTRODUCTION

In 1920, Madame Romaine de Lyon found herself alone in New York City. Her husband Joannes suddenly and unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack, leaving Romaine, barely able to speak English and with few cultural or social ties, to find her own way. Drawing upon the household and management skills that she later attributed to the traditionally French parenting style of her mother, Romaine forged ahead with her new life in America. She opened a small salon de the, a casual tea house that also serves meals.

Through subtle twists of fate, Romaine's salon slowly transformed first into a simple omelette restaurant, then into an iconic New Your City institution. For 65 years, Mme Romaine maintained a midtown presence, where the anonymous and celebrity alike savored over 500 variations of omelettes available from her extraordinary menu. The screenplay for The Producers was penned by Mel Brooks at his regular table in the back of the restaurant. Anne Bancroft, Joan Rivers, Mary Tyler Moore, Joan Rivers, and many other celebrities were known to stop in for omelettes as well.

Romaine's dedication to the proper execution of the omelette and her reputation as expert of her craft spread beyond the limits of New York City. Her stature as a master omelette maker was evidenced by signed photos that covered the restaurant walls from famous customers who lived all over the world. Her small restaurant was also chosen to premier Teflon-coated pans to the American public. But perhaps the best recognition of all came from the ultimate cooking authority, the great Julia Child. During the omelette episode of The French Chef, Julia holds up a copy of The Art of Cooking Omelettes and recommends it to anyone interested in cooking exquisite omelettes. To the discerning, anything less is simply not an ceuf!

The Art of Cooking Omelettes captures the heart and essence of Romaine's storied life. The content and her lively writer's voice offer insight into Romaine's personal history and philosophy of life (culinary and otherwise). This autobiography of a master omelette maker could stand alone as a worthy read, but The Art of Cooking Omelettes also includes recipes for over 500 of the omelettes, culinary works of art that made Madame Romaine de Lyon's restaurant so beloved. In lieu of the family life that fate took away from Mme Romaine, she dedicated herself to her customers, her craft, and her eggs. To our benefit, she has shared this passion with us in this delightful book.

—Andre Boisseau

    CHAPTER 1

How I came to be an Omelette Maker

No one comes into this world an instinctive maker of omelettes, and I would not have you believe that as soon as I could walk I toddled into the kitchen, seized an egg and a frying pan, and began at once what was to be my life's work. But I did have the inestimable advantage of being born in Lyon, France, where my parents maintained a restaurant in the tradition of true Lyonnaise cookery. As a young girl I was apprenticed to my mother in this family enterprise. She was an instinctive cuisiniere, and saw to it that I learned in proper order: first, principles; then recipes; and, finally, style.

She taught me well. My omelettes have made me known in New Delhi and Hongkong, in Buenos Aires and Rio dc Janeiro, in London and Paris, and everywhere in the United States. The people I have cooked for who came from these and other places all over the world have often said to me, Oh, madame, will I be able to learn to make an omelette likeyours? This book is my answer. As my mother taught me, I will teach you the principles. To these you must add more than a soupgon of patience. I will give you, too, the recipes I have spent a lifetime perfecting. To these you must add practice.

When you have come that far, you will realize something else—that omelettes are also made with love and delicacy. These ingredients are not to be measured by the teaspoonful, but the good cook must bring them eventually to her pan and her eggs. The superior omelette is far more than breaking the eggs into the pan and applying heat. One begins with principles and practice, as I have said; the love and delicacy come naturally, if they are to come at all.

I will tell you how I became an omelette maker—not that you must emulate me to be successful, but perhaps you will want to know how one becomes Queen of the Omelette Makers, as they sometimes call me. It has been, believe me, a very long and sometimes a very rough road.

When I was only twelve and growing up in Lyon, I was traveling that road without knowing it. In those long days I went to school from eight o'clock until noon, and then from two o'clock until six. Most of my friends had time for play after supper, but I had to run straight home from school to help in the family restaurant. It was n a section called Mon- plaisir la Plaine, about as far from the center of Lyon as Times Square is from East 56th Street, where I have my restaurant between Park and Lexington avenues.

While I set out piles of dishes, peeled vegetables, and tended the soup, I could hear the shouts of my friends at play, but I did not think myself badly used, an unpaid convenience or drudge. My mother was a good French mother, who believed that her daughter must learn to become a proper manager, an art which no French girl is ever too young to begin learning. It was made clear to me that my mother was training me in that art, day by day. In the end I would be an excellent housekeeper, laundress, and seamstress, and naturally an excellent cook.

My parents, Pierre and Marie Chatard, were not born Lyonnais. They came from the Department of the Loire, but since the French believe that newly married couples should be left to work out their own affairs, they at once put a distance between themselves and their parental homes and came to Lyon. It is not considered a good thing for a French bride to be always running back to mother for advice and help, and that is why girls are given an early and thorough training in the tasks and responsibilities of keeping a home. That was the way my mother had been trained; it was the way she was training me when I was only twelve.

My father had been a horticulturist in the beginning, but had been compelled to give t up because of a fever and old war wounds, the result of his military service in Algeria. The fever affected him especially in the spring, when a horticulturist had the most work to do, so he concluded that he must change occupations and became the proprietor of a restaurant.

By chance he was soon able to ncrease his opportunities. An elderly couple named Caffer lived on a large estate adjoining his Restaurant de la Place and became regular patrons. They were so pleased with his menu and his management that they were soon friends as well, and suggested one day that he build a larger establishment, which they would be happy to finance.

It was done. The handsome new restaurant was located directly on the Place des Ecoles, a large square, and its sidewalk cafe section ran for nearly a full block. In addition to the main restaurant space, there was a room of tremendous proportions which provided accommodations for banquets, wedding dinners and suppers, political gatherings, and other local meetings.

My father, who was a shrewd man, saw that this room would be even more profitable as a civic meeting place if the streetcar line from the center of Lyon could only be extended as far as our square. He got up a petition to that effect, and when he had obtained enough signatures, took it to Monsieur Edouard Herriot, then mayor of the city. Monsieur Herriot received it favorably, the line was extended, and that was why the name of our restaurant was changed to Restaurant Terminus. On the day the first streetcar rattled into the Place des Ecoles, the end of the line, my father was host at a civic banquet in his big room. Monsieur Herriot came and made a little speech in which he expressed his satisfaction that the people of Monplaisir would no longer be obliged to walk two kilometers to the car line.

After that day, the mayor came often to our restaurant, sometimes officially in connection with public events, but more often privately with his friends. He enjoyed my mother's cuisine. His special delight was a chicken dish listed on the menu as poulet Marie, which she made n a wonderful sauce with truffles, mushrooms, and cognac. Often, as I looked up from taking something out of the oven, I would observe Monsieur Herriot eating slowly, savoring his chicken. If he happened to glance into the kitchen and caught my mother's eye, he would nod approvingly.

Mother began to train me early in soups and the simpler sauces. I thought of her as a pleasant woman but never a laughing one, and I admired her petite brunette good looks. She instructed me as much by quietly expert example as by spoken words. If I longed sometimes to be free to go out and play with my friends, there was compensation in the overwhelming pride I felt when patrons came out into the kitchento look around. They looked about approvingly at the complete, shining order of the place, with the ranks of copper pans and kettles gleaming from the polishing with salt and vinegar I had given them. What a kitchen! these patrons would sigh, no doubt thinking of their own.

I worked hard to achieve the high standards my mother set, although I must confess that at the moment my ambitions were far from the kitchen. Secretly, I wanted to be a milliner or a couturiere when I grew up. I would not have believed that one day I would have a restaurant of my own three thousand miles away in New York City.

One day, when I was just past thirteen, my mother startled me by announcing matter-of-factly, Romaine, there is a party of young men about to leave for their military service and they have engaged a table for their going-away banquet. You will prepare the menu for them.

Such a responsibility suddenly thrust upon me! I was in a panic. I knew enough of such affairs to understand that they must be at once practical and sentimental—that is, the boys would have only a little money to spend, but because it was such a special occasion the meal must be planned so that it would appear as expensive as though t had been cooked for a gourmet.

With