Tortilla Madness

“We who approach our kitchens with ham-fisted dread must defy the Alexes of this world–those breezy souls who can reach into cupboards, rifle among the cereal boxes, and come back forty minutes later with a plate of Tunisian lambs’ jowls heightened with pomegranate seeds. Like seasoned gigolos, such people know only of success, repeated every night with subtle variation; they talk of “mastering” the art of cooking, whereas most of us are lucky to be its slaves, scalded and swearing, doomed to tiptoe along the verge of failure. They are the kings of time, too, wisely marinating their salmon for twenty-four hours, already savoring the triumph to come, while we splash on the fish sauce, the lime juice, and the tarlike lees from the bottom of the soy bottle, poke the flesh for ten minutes, and then, as much from boredom as famine, head for the stove.” – Anthony Lane.

Oh, yeah. And I made a tortilla…

That lengthy quote is from the New Yorker’s food issue that came out in November. I’d set it aside for a rainy day, and finally came back to it on a snowy one. If by some chance you’ve still got that issue kicking around, I highly recommend it, as I think it’s the best food issue of the last five years. The quote is from a short piece by Anthony Lane on eggs. The “Alex” that he’s referencing is a character from a T.S. Eliot poem who is able to throw together complete, delicious meals from whatever he finds in the pantry.

You know these people, and you’re jealous of them. At least I am. That sort of off-the-cuff ease with which I’ve seen people throw together spontaneous meals is a skill I desperately want to develop, but one that I also find elusive. Part of it is experience–I find this kind of cooking easier now than I did two years ago–and part of it is what kind of stuff you’ve actually got in the cupboard. But I think some of it is just unlearnable, and I doubt I’ll ever really be an Alex of this world, no matter how long I cook.

But in some ways, that just makes it all the more satisfying for us non-Alexes when we pull off an Alex-like success, as I did last weekend. Foraging through my fridge on Saturday morning, I came across a container full of the truly awful fries I’d ordered at a diner the night before. Why had I saved them? God only knows, but I was glad they were there, as they gave me an idea. Why does a tortilla espanola have to start with raw potatoes? Wouldn’t these starchy, bland fries make the perfect base?

I started, as is often the case, by sauteing some onions:

And meanwhile, I cut up the fries:

After the onions were nice and soft, I added in the potatoes to warm and beat three eggs in a large bowl. Once the potatoes had heated, I dumped the potato/onion mixture into the eggs and added salt and pepper as well as some shredded cheese that I had found tucked away on a back shelf. (Why not?) I added some fresh oil to the pan, and dumped the potato/onion/egg mixture back in. I waited for it to set (5-10 minutes) and then used a plate to flip it, but you can also throw it in the oven to finish, provided you’re using an oven-safe frying pan.

Alex would have been proud. Or maybe disgusted. I don’t care. Screw Alex, this was breakfast.