Roasted Red Pepper Omelets

Late January. Chinese New Year (which is also Vietnamese new year at the same time but Mai insists on calling it Tết Nguyên Đán and not Chinese New Year, for reasons of cultural specificity that she has explained to me many times) is a few weeks out. The bánh chưng production is scheduled for next weekend — a three-day intensive at Mai's with Linh, me, and (this year) Lily and Mei learning the process. Mai has decided this is the year she teaches them properly. The matriarch passes the knowledge.

Sunday at Mai's — preliminary prep. Soaking the sticky rice. Boiling the mung beans. Cleaning the banana leaves (a project on its own — wash, dry, soften over an open flame so they'll fold without cracking). The leaves came from the Hong Kong Market in a tall bundle. Mai inspected them like a quality assurance officer. Two leaves rejected. The rest accepted. The rejected leaves she gave to Smokey, who carried one around in his mouth proudly for an hour and then chewed it into a wad and looked at me confused when I took it away. Smokey does not know about Tet yet. He will learn. The Hernándezes' dog used to eat banh chung scraps from my yard every February. Dogs adapt.

The restaurant is in its eight-month groove now. Lily and James are still tired, but it's a sustainable tired. They have hired a strong sous chef (a guy named Carlos, no relation to my Carlos, but the name does make me pause every time it comes up) who is good with the line and good with the staff. James has more time off the line, which means he has more time to think about the menu, which means new dishes are getting tested every week. Lily has more time to work on the business side — the books, the supplier relationships, the marketing. They're building it the way a restaurant is built — slow, then fast, then slow again, the brisket pattern.

Made cháo tôm Sunday — Vietnamese shrimp congee, a softer cousin of the chicken version. Shrimp poached in the rice porridge at the end so they stay just barely cooked, with a hit of fish sauce, white pepper, fresh ginger, scallions, and crispy shallots on top. Eaten at the kitchen table with Mai watching me watch the snow that wasn't actually snow but was a high cold rain. She said, "Bao, you should be in Vietnam already." I said, "Six weeks." She said, "Six weeks is too far away." I said, "I know." Mai is excited about the trip. She has not said it aloud. But the way she said "six weeks" — the math she's doing in her head is the math of a woman who is counting down.

The cháo tôm was the main event that Sunday, but the morning before Mai arrived I made omelets — a habit from years of quiet Sundays when the kitchen is the only warm room and you need something fast that still feels intentional. Roasted red peppers are the thing I keep in the jar for exactly this: the day is cold, the prep list is long, and you want color and a little sweetness without any fuss. When you’re six weeks out from a trip you’ve been waiting for and counting down is all you can do, the right move is to cook something small and good and eat it standing up before the work begins.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 2

Ingredients

4 large eggs
2 tablespoons whole milk or water
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, divided
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, divided
1/2 cup jarred roasted red peppers, drained and thinly sliced
1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese, divided
2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
1 small shallot, finely minced
1 teaspoon olive oil

Instructions

Prepare the filling. Heat olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the minced shallot and cook, stirring, until softened and translucent, about 2 minutes. Add the sliced roasted red peppers and cook another 1 minute just to warm through. Season lightly with salt and pepper and set aside.
Beat the eggs. Crack 2 eggs into a small bowl, add 1 tablespoon milk, a pinch of salt, and a pinch of pepper. Whisk vigorously with a fork until the yolks and whites are fully combined and slightly frothy.
Cook the first omelet. Melt 1/2 tablespoon butter in a non-stick 8-inch skillet over medium heat, swirling to coat. When the foam subsides, pour in the egg mixture. Let it set at the edges for about 20 seconds, then use a spatula to gently push the cooked edges toward the center, tilting the pan so uncooked egg flows to the edges. Continue until the top is just barely set but still looks slightly glossy.
Fill and fold. Spoon half the red pepper mixture onto one half of the omelet. Sprinkle with half the feta and half the parsley. Fold the bare half over the filling and slide onto a plate.
Repeat for the second omelet. Wipe out the skillet, melt the remaining butter, and repeat steps 2 through 4 with the remaining eggs and filling.
Serve immediately. Eat standing up at the counter or at the table. Either is correct.

Nutrition (per serving)

Roasted Red Pepper Omelets — Something Warm When the Rain Won’t Quit