I had an internal debate for years as to what constitutes the perfect omelette. Should it be runny? Should it have any colour? How is it to be presented? You could tell me it is a matter of taste and that I shouldn't lose sleep over it, but still, there must be a standard by which you evaluate a good one. After some research I came to the conclusion that the Perfect French Omelette is the one; delicate and  light ,creamy inside, just set outside with no colour and rolled in a perfect oblong shape. How do you get there? With difficulty. Not that Julia Child didn't warn me, in her "Mastering the art of French cooking"  she says that short of having an expert to show you how, the only thing is to memorise instructions- it all happens very quickly- and get practising over several days. At home my chances for practising are somewhat limited, as Julian regards omelettes as his private domain. These are usually our Sunday night supper, where things that have been lurking in the fridge and deemed consumable get cooked with eggs. Some are better than others but he can't be faulted on creativity and variety. Now that I am in the know, I'll have to break it  to him gently, that in fact all these years, we had technically speaking, Frittatas,  that's when the eggs are added to ingredients and not omelettes.

One morning, when the coast was clear, so to speak and no one to watch over my shoulder, I thought enough reading about it, it was time to face the challenge and with the wind up my sail and a newly acquired non-stick frying pan I set forth towards my hob. Omelette No.1- Not good, the pan is far too big and I end up with scrambled eggs, good ones mind you, but not a PFO, I ate it anyway as I was a bit peckish. Omelette No.2- decide to increase to three eggs to suit the pan, but the egg mass still spread out too thinly, can't bear to throw food so I eat that too. Omelette No.3: time for a smaller pan; not a bad result but the pan is not as non-stick as it should be making the folding tricky and presentation not too pristine. Can't face to eat more eggs and remembered that Stephen the electrician was around so went to look for him with omelette No.3; he ate it and seemed delighted with this unexpected offering. I then went into the office where I knew I would find Edwina and asked her if she wanted an omelette since I was trying my hand at them and would she give me her unbiased opinion. She looked surprised, not to say downright concerned at the thought that I never made an omelette before; sensing that, I quickly reassured her that I was not doing just any old omelette but the PFO . Omelette No.4: made on the hob of the prep kitchen of the cookery school with a new pan and boldly higher heat, a bit nerve inducing but I was quite pleased. She said it was very good, as I was telling her how crucial it was to find the right heat level, we both thought I should do one on a cookery school hob if I was to show others, to be sure to be sure. When I asked her if she was prepared to eat another one she said she was okay, but Poppy and Sacha (her black Labradors) would love one. Not the finest palates; they love decaying rabbits, but still better than throwing it out I thought. Omelette No.5: Pretty much like No.4 ; but didn't  bother too much on the perfect shape, Poppy and Sacha didn't seem to   mind.