Stop underdressing your eggs

A little over a decade ago, I felt God in an omelet bar nestled inside the breakfast nook of a Turkish hotel.

Let me explain.

It was the summer of 2016, and my family and I were travelling back to the States from Bangladesh — an arduous 23-hour-long journey that was further extended by a 12+ hour layover in Istanbul. We checked into our hotel during the wee hours of the morning, all of us tired, slightly unkempt and desperately in need of a warm shower. An air of tension hovered over us like an unspoken truth, which was inevitable after spending so much time together in one confined space after another. Despite the high stakes, I was an absolute menace. My body was covered in a handful of enlarged mosquito bites, many of them already open gashes from my relentless itching. My face was also dotted with bright, red bites that accompanied my pubescent pimples. I felt ugly and ghastly. I figured that no amount of rest or even a good meal could make me feel better. Or, so I thought.

The omelet bar, which sat center amongst winding rows of buffet-style breakfast items, was ultimately my saving grace. As I inched forward in line, my appetite ravenous, I was greeted by a generous lineup of toppings. On one side were the vegetables and herbs: tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, mini broccoli, chives, parsley, tarragon and chervil. On the other side were chopped meats, shredded cheeses, spices and various yogurts. This was purely egg heaven. I made my request: an overloaded omelet stuffed with every possible vegetable and cheese, and seasoned with smoked paprika, chili powder, salt and pepper. I watched in awe as melted cheese oozed out from inside, forming a delicious crust along the edges of my cooked omelette. I savored the beautiful aroma of fresh eggs bathed in spices. I marveled at the finished product, which was deliciously dense, and enjoyed every bite until my plate was spotless.

The beauty of eggs is that they don’t need much to taste good. Jacques Pépin taught us that a stellar French omelette requires only four ingredients (butter, fines herbes, salt and pepper) while a classic omelette needs just parsley, mushrooms and Gruyère. Martha Stewart’s recipe for Perfect Scrambled Eggs calls for just butter, salt and pepper. Ina Garten claims the same, slightly zhushing up her eggs with half-and-half, goat cheese and chopped chives. But that doesn’t mean that eggs don’t deserve more, especially when it comes to ingredients and embellishments. It’s what I like to call a maximalist egg — an egg, whether omelet, scrambled, or even hard-boiled, that doesn’t skimp on anything. Trust that if you’ve never enjoyed your eggs with such extravagance and complexity, it will change your palate for the better.

A successful maximalist egg all boils down to personal preference and balance. Before you construct your egg, think about what toppings you’d like to incorporate. Do you prefer an egg that’s heavy on vegetables? What about a melty, fluffy egg that has an insane cheese pull? Or maybe, an egg that leans more spicy with a hint of tang? Then, determine how you’ll add each topping and whether it’s best to whisk them into your egg mixture or add them gradually as the egg cooks (namely, if you’re making an omelet or scrambled eggs). Take into consideration that certain vegetables (like bell peppers, mushrooms, broccoli and squash varieties) need to be finely diced or thinly sliced so that they don’t weigh down your cooked egg. Tomatoes are also best added without their watery pulp to maintain firmness. I prefer to whisk in larger toppings, including vegetables and sliced or chopped meats, along with spices to allow for consistency in flavor and texture. Shredded cheese can also be whisked in or sprinkled immediately after the egg mixture hits the pan to create a slightly hardened top layer.

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The key is to have fun with building and customizing your maximalist egg. As with many things in cooking, it’s a trial-and-error process — some flavor combinations may not translate well on the plate, while others may blissfully surprise you. Once you get over the hurdle of excessifying your eggs, you’ll have a few go-to recipes that are uniquely yours.

As I look back on my favorite egg recipes, I’m reminded of my childhood and early college years eating at the campus dining hall. There’s my mother’s extra-hot omelette, generously filled with chopped bird’s eye chili (seeds intact), sliced red onions and cilantro. There’s also my go-to dining hall omelette and scrambled eggs, made with butter, crumbled feta cheese, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers and Old Bay seasoning.

My absolute favorite maximalist egg recipe was first created when I moved into my very first apartment as an adult. It draws inspiration from the spices I grew up eating in my mother’s home cooking and the staple ingredients always in stock in my fridge. If you’re looking for a maximalist egg recipe and don’t know where to start on your own, be sure to give this recipe a try. It’s warm and slightly earthy from the ground cumin and crumbled feta cheese. The tomatoes and jalapeños add a hint of freshness with a little kick, too.

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