Savory Snacks: Bacon & Cheese Paste, and Scotch Eggs

Presbyterian Palate Pleasers's second recipe sealed the deal on this twelve-and-a-half cent purchase.

C.&.B.'s (Sandwich Filling)

1-1/2 lb. cheddar cheese
2 to 3 slices bacon (uncooked)
1 small onion
Green pepper (as desired)

Place all ingredients into a food grinder and mix well. To serve, spread on slices of party rye or English muffin and place under broiler to toast. Serve warm. Mixture may be kepet in refrigerator in a tight container for a week or two. The above amounts may be varied according to personal taste.

Marie Lockwood

It's bacon paste. Bacon & cheddar paste. You take raw bacon, and you grind it up with cheese, and you call it macaroni. (No, you don't. You call it "C & B.") Me, though, I'm calling it bacon paste.

And there's nothing at all wrong with that.

Okay, there's one thing wrong with this -- odds are, it looks like other processed cheese products one might have in one's fridge, but THIS one has raw pork fat in it. So, put a little warning on your crock of cheesy bacon paste, so that no one confuses Ms. Lockwood's masterpiece with some port wine cheese spread.

There is nothing about that recipe that wouldn't make me want to buy this cookbook. But, just turn the page, and there's another classic savory snack recipe!

Scotch Eggs

4 hard-boiled eggs, cooled and shelled.
Roll lightly in flour.
1 beaten egg with little milk for dipping in before coating.
Fine bread crumbs
8-oz. sausage meat, with herbs added, if desired.
Deep-fat or oil to fry.

Divide sausage into 4 equal parts and smooth over eggs. (Try to cover egg all around.) Coat these with egg and milk mixture and roll firmly in bread crumbs. Deep fry and drain on paper. Remember, the sausage must cook through, so don't rush the frying process. Serve hot or cold. May be cut in half or in large slices. Excellent as an appetizer or on a picnic. This recipe was received from Jenny Cannon, who is from England.

Carol Alphin

First, I must say, the typesetter left out the period after "Fine bread crumbs," not me. Diligently capturing typos makes me twitch.

Now, I love me some Scotch eggs. They remind me of Chefly Husband, who has made them for children's menus and called them "dinosaur eggs." They remind me of the Maryland Renaissance Festival, where, I swear, a day without a Scotch egg is as close to a sad day as one can have at the RennFest.

A bit of hyperbole goes a long way on a blog. The statement above is not hyperbole.

I think it's sweet that Ms. Alphin doesn't claim the recipe as her own, but rather credits a Brit. Does it add authenticity to the Scotch-ness of the recipe?

Ms. Alphin's from the great Pacific Northwest, originally -- even went to Pacific Lutheran College. I don't know what brought her out to Hagerstown, but in Hagerstown she was and in Hagerstown she is. My crazy little brain likes to make up stories to fill in the details and connections, so in that c.l.b., somehow this recipe for Scotch eggs is what inspired the RennFest to have Scotch eggs, and...

It's not at all a likely scenario. But it stars yummy, savory snacks.

Cooking the Books: Tomato & Buttermilk Soup and Hard Cooked Eggs

I don't know what's got me on a buttermilk kick lately, but a kick I am on. It's also hotter than heck in DC right now. So, I decided it was time to try Tomato & Buttermilk Soup. Last night, I pulled out two Mason jars. I poured buttermilk in one, up about 1/3 of the way. Then, I topped the jar off with tomato juice. I screwed the cap on, gave it a shake, and put it in the fridge. I remembered it this morning while leaving work -- small miracle, that -- and popped it in the work fridge until lunch.

It was cold. It was delicious. I didn't add salt -- the tomato juice is plenty salty -- or pepper or any such thing. That being said, I can see a couple dashes of Tabasco working nicely here, or a sprinkle of dill, or fennel fronds, or grated cuke, or... really, whatever you have handy that is tomato-friendly.

I drank my soup right out of the jar. I shall do so again tomorrow. It doesn't look like much in this picture here -- if you want a more-vivid color, then use more tomato juice, or try some paprika (ooo, paprika would be good in here...).

The only lunch prep I did for this week that required a stove was boiling up a bunch of hard cooked eggs. Followed the recipe (with mother in law alteration) and once again, ended up with perfect, perfect eggs.

As to the second jar I mentioned up there in the first paragraph, I filled it 1/3 of the way with steel cut oats, and then poured in buttermilk until the jar was 1/3 full. Screwed on the cap. Set it in the fridge overnight. Opened it this morning to fill the jar the rest of the way with fresh blueberries (frozen fruit works, too), and took it off to work where it made one heck of a hearty breakfast. Texture: like Grape-Nuts. And we all know how much I like Grape-Nuts.

Outdoor Dining, Margaret O'Sullivan; Miniature Frittatas

I am a sucker for impulse purchases. Interstingish looking things, attractively displayed near a line I'm apt to be standing in for a while? I'll pick them up. I'll peruse. And I may well buy. For a lot of folks, this is how magazines, chewing gum, and odd pastry items end up in the house. For me? It's cookbooks. And so it happened that I was standing in a Williams Sonoma, flipping through Outdoor Dining, by Margaret O'Sullivan (Lansdowne Publishing Pty Ltd, 1995). The cover shows miniature smoked salmon frittatas, and every page inside hints at the sort of life where finely crafted picnics just sort of happen.

I had to buy it.

And a good thing I am such a light touch for the marketers! This is a great cookbook; I've prepared lots of the dishes, and keep meaning to try more. They all turn out. They're all tasty. And, as we're officially in Summer (Observed) now that Memorial Day has passed, and I've my first outdoor concert of the season to go to next week, it seems time to take out this old favorite.

Miniature Frittatas

4 oz (125 g) smoked salmon, finely chopped
3 oz (90 g) goat cheese, crumbled
fresh chives, chopped
6 eggs
1/4 cup (2 fl oz/60 ml) single (light) cream

These miniature frittatas make a great picnic starter -- serve them with chilled champagne. You can vary the fillings: chopped artichoke hearts, prosciutto, asparagus tips, Ratatouille (page 23), sautéed mushrooms or leek, or smoked salmon and goat cheese as combined here.

Grease a 12 cup cake (patty cake) pan. Divide the smoked salmon, goat cheese, and chives between the cups.

Lightly beat the eggs with the cream and pour into the cups.

Bake in a moderately hot oven (400°F/200°C/Gas Mark 6) for 8-10 minutes until golden brown.

Turn onto a cake cooler and serve at room temperature.

Serves 4-6

I use a mini muffin tin when I make these; depending on your pan and how much stuff you stuff into your frittatas, your baking time will vary, so keep an eye on them. As the recipe suggests, these work with just about anything. Don't like goat cheese? Plop in some other cheese that does suit. Try cooked, peeled baby shrimp instead of the salmon. Whatever you have just a bit of left in the fridge is fair game.

I tend to prefer dry-smoked smoked salmon to wet, so I go for some nice, thick, crumbly reminds-me-of-Oregon salmon as opposed to more elegant thin slices of fish. Use that which makes you happy.

I've made these for brunches -- they're a star of my traditional Thanksgiving parade-is-on-TV breakfast -- and for dinner parties. They're always a hit. The only time they've come close to failing is when I was working with an unfamiliar oven and insufficiently prepped my pans. Grease them well, folks.

Many of the recipes in Outdoor Dining have menu suggestions in the sidebar -- this one is no exception:

Menu

Miniature Fritattas
Barbecued Double Lamb Cutlets with Ratatouille (page 23)
Honey Wafers (page 51)

One could do worse.

In a quasi-related note, I evidently can't type "miniature" without first mistyping it as "minature."

Old-Fashioned Eggnog

Most of the time, when I want some seasonal 'nog, I get a quart from the grocery store, mix it half-and-half with some 2% milk, grate a little nutmeg on top if I'm feeling fancy, and consider myself nogged.

Sometimes, though, it's worth it to make the real deal, from scratch. If you're having people over (people who drink booze, that is... this is a boozified version), and haven't tried 'nogging, give this recipe from Christmas 101 a try.

Old-Fashioned Eggnog

Makes 3 quarts, about 12 servings

Make Ahead: Eggnog should be chilled at least 4 hours before serving, and served within 24 hours.

6 large eggs, separated
1 1/4 cups superfine sugar (see Note)
1 cup dark rum
1 cup brandy
1/3 cup bourbon
1 1/2 quarts heavy cream
1 pint vanilla ice cream, for serving
Freshly grated nutmeg, for serving

1. In a large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, beat the egg yolks and the sugar until thick. Beat in the rum, brandy, and bourbon, then the cream.

2. In another large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, and using clean beaters, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Stir into the eggnog. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight.

3. Transfer to a punch bowl. Using scissors, cut the container away from the ice cream, keeping the ice cream intact in one piece. Place the ice cream in the eggnog. Grate the nutmeg over the eggnog and serve immediately.

Amaretto Eggnog: Delete the bourbon. Substitute 1 cup Amaretto for the brandy. Decrease the superfine sugar to 1 cup. If desired, add 1/4 teaspoon almond extract. When serving, substitute toasted almond ice cream for the vanilla ice cream.

Note: To make your own superfine sugar, process regular granulated sugar, about 1/2 cup at a time, in a food processor or blender until finely ground. It will take 1 to 2 minutes per batch.

I suppose you could make this without the booze. You could. If you do that, replace the liquid with milk (or cream, if you're really going for thick, thick 'nog). However, if you don't have the booze, you'd best be extra super duper sure your eggs are fresh and clean before you use and crack 'em. Wash the shells before you crack. You don't want your festive 'nog to give anyone salmonella. The booze, by the way, doesn't make this a 100% safe dish. If you're immuno-compromised, including being on the nest, you should think twice about this. Actually, if you're immuno-compromised because you're on the nest, you should probably avoid all recipes that include more than a pint of liquor.

The more you know...

You can't wrap up the 'nog and mail it to far off friends, but somehow, it's just not the Christmas season without eggnog.

Or hot buttered rum.

Oooooh, yes. But we'll post about that on the 23rd.

I Don't Think It Means What They Think It Means: Home-For-Lunch Quickie

The editors of Good Housekeeping's Quick 'n' Easy Cook Book seem to rather miss the point of a home-for-lunch quickie in this recipe:

Home-for-Lunch Quickie

1 can condensed cream-of-celery soup, undiluted
8 eggs
1/4 teasp. pepper
2 tablesp. butter or margarine

Empty soup into bowl; stir well. Add eggs and pepper; beat just enough to blend. In saucepan, melt butter; pour in egg mixture. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally with fork, until set but still moist. If desired, serve with crisp bacon slices.

Makes 6 servings

Wait....seriously???

At lunch time, a "quickie" had better be referring to some speedy nookie, not ... whatever the hell this is. A ... cream of celery custard? If it were baked, I could try and wrap my head around it as a souffle of some sort, but...

Why are we having a 6 serving dish at a lunchtime quickie? How many folks are coming home for this quickie? And, why are we beating eggs into undiluted celery soup and then thinking anyone will eat it?

I swear, this might just have to become a Cook The Books recipe, just to see how beyond creepy it really is. This recipe is the antithesis of hot sex during the lunch hour.

The teasing mention of bacon isn't enough, even, to make this work for me.

The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book; Eggs a la Rector

I grew up just outside of Portland, Oregon, so it shouldn't be a big surprise that a lot of my cookbooks focus on the Pacific Northwest. This week, we'll be looking at The Portland Woman's Exchange Cook Book from 1913; it was reprinted in 1973 with an introduction and ample notation from another native Oregonian, James Beard. Let's go to the master's introduction:

The Woman's Exchange, as you probably remember, was a national movement...that provided otherwise unemployed people with a marketplace for their handicrafts and their talents. ...The Portland Woman's Exchange, which functioned up until the Second World War, maintained one or two homes. ...

The most dedicated members of the Exchange produced this book. It contains many mouthwatering recipes, but beyond that it is a record of living for a particular period of Portland's history.

Boy, is it ever! The reprint has retained all the 1913 advertisements, like this one for the Hotel Multnomah which offers guaranteed fire-proof accommodations for up to $5 a night.

In Beard's introduction, he references some of his favorite dishes in the book, and despairs of some others (there's a cherry salad that he mocks; I think it sounds tasty, if a bit over-thought -- basically, you stone a bunch of cherries, and then stuff them with whole, shelled filberts). While feeling the Beardian love, might as well use one of the recipes he admired:

Eggs a la Rector*

Cut an onion very fine and fry in butter. Add a cup of good cream and boil 5 minutes. Cut 4 hard-boiled eggs in 1/2-inch slices, season with salt and pepper; put them into cream and onion, and heat thoroughly. Serve quickly.

Mrs. Wm. H. Crane

* Classically known as Eggs a la Tripe or Oeufs a la Tripe. A very good dish. (J.B.)

Personally, it sounds tastier a la Rector than a la Tripe. Don't think this is a dish where you can substitute lower-fat dairy goods; anything other than full-fat cream won't stand up to the boiling.

Beard points out that Mrs. Wm. H. Crane was married to the William H. Crane, star of stage and, to a lesser degree, screen. Don't know how the Cranes got to Oregon, but they left their mark with this recipe, if nothing else.

It's actually a lot of fun as a transplanted Portland-ish girl to flip through and read all the contributors' names; they are the same names as concert halls and roads and schools and auditoriums all over the state.

Side note: the links to the book titles this week won't go to Amazon searches, as in the past, but to Google Books... the entire 1913 version of the book is available electronically free of charge...have fun with it.

The One That Matters; Hard-Boiled Eggs

For me, there's usually one recipe in any beloved cookbook that is the recipe, the one that matters. Believe it or not, here's mine for The Kitchen Survival Guide:

Hard-Boiled Eggs

Cooking time: 20 minutes
Can be made ahead? Yes. Shell the eggs while they are still hot and store in a covered glass or plastic container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.
Can be frozen? No.
Can be doubled and tripled? Yes. Make as many as you'd like. Just make sure you use a big enough pot to cook them.
Good for leftovers? Yes. Refrigerate for up to 4 day until ready to use.

It's best to use a Teflon-coated pan for boiling eggs, since a metal pan will become discolored unless you add a pinch of cream of tartar to the water.

Fill a saucepan two thirds full with cold water. Add as many eggs as you wish to cook (they should not be crowded) and 1 tablespoon salt. Bring to a rolling boil. Cover the pan, turn off the heat, and let the eggs sit in the hot water for 15 minutes.

Drain off the hot water and immediately run the eggs under cold water. Peel at once (it gets harder if you wait).

I'm serious. Every. single. time. I boil eggs, I reach for The Kitchen Survival Guide and turn to page 153. Chefly Husband has crossed out "15" both times it appears in this recipe and written in "12 per Mom." Another C.H. notation: "3 for Soft-Boiled."

So, cook your eggs this way, for 12 minutes, and then go one step further and ignore the peeling advice. Take your hard-cooked eggs, and dye 'em. For any holiday. For any non-holiday.

Yes, I said "hard-cooked." The recipe above may call itself Hard-Boiled, but the American Egg Board calls 'em by their proper name. If you want truly hard-boiled eggs, you'll boil them for their whole cooking time, and be stuck in the same trap I was stuck in before The Kitchen Survival Guide came into my life. For me, hard-boiled = usually over cooked and with the weird grey ring around the yolk; hard-cooked = perfection, with the most beautiful yolks ever.

Favorite things to do with perfectly hard-cooked eggs:

• dye 'em
• crack 'em competitively
• eat the whites with salt and give the yolks to Chefly Husband or dog
• make egg salad sandwiches (The Kitchen Survival Guide has a good egg salad recipe, with variation, if you don't have a favorite already)
• devil 'em

Egg Safety? Bah! Mt. Miller Chocolate Cheese Pie

I'm off tonight to a place where I can get a deep fried Mars bar. Thinking about it has me in a chocolate-y mood, which means this recipe from Alaska "Sourdough" Cookin' has been bumped up from Friday to today:

Mt. Miller Chocolate Cheese Pie

1 pkg. (6-oz.) semi-sweet chocolate
1 pkg. (8-oz.) cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs, separated
1 cup heavy cream, whipped
9 in. chilled graham cracker crust

Melt chocolate over hot (not boiling) water, then cool about 10 minutes. Blend cream cheese, 1/2 cup of the brown sugar, salt and vanilla. Beat in egg yolks, one at a time. Beat in cooled chocolate and blend well. Beat egg whites until stiff but not dry. Gradually beat the remaining 1/4 cup sugar, beat until stiff and glossy. Fold chocolate mixture into beaten whites. Fold in whipped cream. Pour into chilled crust and chill overnight. Makes 8 servings.

Aaaah, the glorious days before every recipe and menu warned of food safety! There's raw eggs in here. RAW EGGS! They are not heated. They are not acidulated. They are raw.

Golly, this sounds like a yummy pie.

Semantically, I'm wondering why this recipe uses what I'd consider the standard plural-or-singular abbreviation of "ounce" -- 6 oz. and 8 oz. -- and other recipes use "ozs." as the plural. It's not a community cookbook, so it shouldn't be an artifact of different family styles...

Oh, and I never melt my chocolate over water on the stove these days. So much easier to do it in the microwave!

Casserole Cookery: One-Dish Meals For The Busy Gourmet; Stuffed Eggs Au Gratin

You spoke, I listened; this week, we'll look at Casserole Cookery: One-Dish Meals For The Busy Gourmet, by Marian & Nino Tracy. First published in 1941, revised in 1946, and coming to my shelf in a 1949 edition. I'll go into the funky pride it takes in its binding in a later post, because, it's just that much fun. But first, let's look at how things change due to war:

A Note for the 1946 Edition

This book was first compiled in the happy days when the only shortages were due to a lack of money or inaccessibility to good markets, and a casserole for four using a pound and a half of meat was called a "meat-stretcher." We all have learned to readjust many such ideas as that about food. Recipes for casserole cooking are pleasantly flexible and the proportions of the major ingredients may be varied according to what is available. Less meat may be used, with more potatoes, rice, and green vegetables added to make more bulk.

If you use fresh foods instead of canned or frozen foods, more time and more liquid must be allowed unless the food has been parboiled. The list of equivalents below will be helpful on this. Solid or liquid fats may be used interchangeably in cooking but never in French dressing. Seasonings are more important than ever in giving zip to an otherwise restricted diet.

Aaaah, rationing. It ended in the U.S. in 1946, but clearly, after the book went to press.

The cooking magazine, Saveur, has named Casserole Cookery one of its favorite casserole cookbooks:

The chatty royals of the casserole kingdom acknowledge their own laziness and offer 150 no-fuss recipes for like-minded home cooks.

Chatty they are. Nearly every recipe has not only a suggested menu to accompany the casserole, but also a story which may or may not have anything to do with the recipe in question. For this week, I've mostly tried to stay clear of the veal and offal recipes, though there's a lot to learn there, so one or two might sneak in. Today, though, we'll start easy (and use up any of the remaining eggs you have on hand from The Pooh Cook Book):

Stuffed Eggs Au Gratin

Time: 45 min.

Ingredients:
6 eggs
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
1 tablespoon vinegar
olive oil, enough to make a smooth paste
(anchovies or anchovy paste, Smithfield ham, capers may be used in the stuffing)
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup milk
1/2 teaspoon basil
grated cheese
salt and pepper

Hardboil the eggs. Peel and halve them. Remove yolks to bowl and mix with mustard, vinegar, olive oil, salt, pepper, and whatever else you care to use. Stuff mixture into halves of whites. Place in bottom of shallow buttered casserole. Make a cream sauce with butter, flour, and milk, and pour over the eggs. Sprinkle top with grated cheese. Bake in oven at 350° for 10 minutes. Serves 4.

Menu
Stuffed eggs au gratin
Raw vegetable salad (carrots, cauliflower, onion, green and sweet red pepper, all chopped) and French dressing (2 parts olive oil, 1 part garlic vinegar, salt and pepper)
Melba toast
Coffee

Story
The "whatever else you care to use" may make you wonder why you paid for this book, but the real point is that the casserole lends itself to many individual tastes.

Yes, it assumes you know how to make a cream sauce. If you don't know how to make a cream sauce, shout out, and I'll do a how-to.

There's a few lines for "cook's comments" on each page, so you can add, subtract, or alter as you see fit.

I find the use of the term "French dressing" interesting here; clearly, it doesn't mean the gloppy red sweet dressing you can buy by that name in the grocery store today. All of a sudden, the pickled peach liquid in French dressing mention back in The Savannah Cook Book makes a lot more sense.

Cooking the Books: Popovers for Piglet

This is what happens when popovers don't pop over. Epic failure.

I'm at a loss. This recipe has never failed me. Ever. My chefly husband tried to console me with a well-meant, "Popovers are notoriously difficult!" Yes, well, this recipe has never, ever failed.

Lessons learned: I may well have figured out how to bake in my tiny tiny half-sized oven, but the tricks needed can't be used on popovers. Anything that requires me to not open the door for 25 minutes is just going to bomb.

:sigh:

I was really looking forward to the popovers. Not only for beautiful blog fodder and a great wrap up to The Pooh Cook Book, but because I was craving them. For breakfast.

:sigh:

Trust me: it does work, this recipe. But you need enough room in the oven for good air circulation. And it wouldn't hurt to have a window on your oven door.

Chefly Husband says that, since the only leavening agent is the eggs, the oven must have been too cold. Since the bottoms are burned, I'm thinking that, in theory, the oven temp was just fine...until the pans went in and blocked all circulation. So, hot on the bottom, cold on the top, not good for popovers.

When I try it again -- and I will -- I'll either cook 'em one pan at a time, or try stacking them... it is entirely possible, however, that my oven is not meant for popovers.

Cottleston Pie

If I thought that The Pooh Cook Book was all about honey, I was wrong. It's also all about eggs. So, if you bought a dozen to make Popovers for Piglet, here's a way to work through some of the remainder.

Cottleston Pie

(Preheat oven to 375° F)
(Yield: 6 servings)

1 9-inch pie shell baked until firm but not browned
3/4 cup bite-size pieces of cooked ham
3 eggs
2 cups whipping cream
1/4 teaspoon salt
Grind pepper
Pinch nutmeg
1 1/2 Tablespoons butter cut in tiny dots
1/2 cup grated cheese (optional)

Bake the pie shell in a preheated oven at 425° F.

To keep the pie shell from sliding down the sides and puffing up at the bottom, prick sides and bottom well with the tines of a fork.

Line the bottom with a double thickness of cheesecloth and cover it with small clean stones, which you have gathered at the beach and washed, or with 1 inch of raw rice. Keep the rice and use it again and again.

Distribute the ham on the bottom of the baked pie shell.

Beat the eggs and cream with the seasonings in a bowl until thoroughly mixed.

Pour on top of the ham.

Scatter the butter dots and cheese, if you use it, on top.

Set on rack in the middle of the oven and bake for 25-30 minutes until Cottleston pie has puffed up and browned.

Serve immediately while piping hot.

Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie,
A fly can't bird, but a bird can fly,
Ask me a riddle and I reply:
"Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston Pie."
-- Winnie-the-Pooh

Let's start with the obvious charms here, before the defects: It's a quiche! It's a quiche, for kids! Also, it gives you something to turn to when you read Pooh to a kid who then asks, "What's Cottleston Pie?"

Now, some of the problems: We are to preheat the oven to 375° F, but then blind-bake the shell in a 425° F oven? I say: preheat to 425° F, and drop it to 375° F as soon as you're done blind-baking.

Also, the recipe neglects to suggest how long you should bake the crust for. How about "until it starts to brown slightly."

Finally, really, this must be said: Cheese is not optional. Cheese is mandatory. First, it's a quiche. Second, it's cheese. Take One Cookbook... is decidedly pro-cheese. I'd recommend using a nice Gruyere here.

This is a timely recipe; tomorrow, I'm meeting up with some friends to bake some Pies for Peace. Nothing quite like baking pies to put a bit of concentrated good into the universe. In the past, we've not done any savory pies, but maybe it's time to change things up a bit.

Jelly Omelet

I grew up in Oregon, but have spent half a lifetime below the Mason Dixon line. Still, I was shocked the first time I heard someone ask for jelly on an egg sandwich.

Sure, I've put pickles (sweet and otherwise) with peanut butter, but... jelly with eggs?

Yes. Jelly with eggs. Witness this offering from The Pooh Cook Book:

Jelly Omelet

(Yield: 1-2 servings)

2-3 eggs
Small skillet, 7-inch
1 Tablespoon butter or margarine
2 Tablespoons jelly
Salt and pepper

Break the eggs in a bowl, add a little salt and pepper, and beat with a fork until the yolks and whites are thoroughly mixed.

Heat the skillet with the butter and pour in the beaten eggs.

Keep over low heat. When the bottom of the egg mixture is firm and the top soft but not runny, spoon in the jelly evenly over the back half of the egg surface.

Loosen the egg mixture on the unjellied front half around the edge of the pan. Tip the pan away from you and flip the front half of the egg mixture over the back half.

Let it sit for a minute before serving.

...humming to himself in a rather sticky voice, he got up, shook Rabbit lovingly by the paw, and said that he must be going on.
"Must you?" said Rabbit politely.
"Well," said Pooh, "I could stay a little longer if it -- if you --" and he tried very hard to look in the direction of the larder.
-- Winnie-the-Pooh

This, in a cookbook for children.

To this day, I've not mastered flipping an omelet in the pan (rolling/flipping it as it makes its way onto the plate is a different matter). I'm tempted to explain the "mix eggs, then heat pan" as a tailored instruction to a less-than-experienced child chef; for anyone who can crack and whip 3 eggs in quick order, I'd get the pan on the heat first thing.

It may also be my nearly unholy love for pork products, but... this would be great with crumbled bacon in it.

My early lack of exposure to this delight just goes to show I came by my love of cookbooks late; Fannie Farmer's famous tome has recipes for jelly omelets going way back.