Omelette du Fromage

I loved Dexter's Laboratory and used to watch it all the time with my sister, Kelsy. One of my favorite episodes was the "omelette du fromage" episodes, and subsequently the reason why I took French courses throughout my high school and college life.

When I was just starting college at Grand Valley State University I decided to get a job on campus. I had worked in food business since I was 16, so when a job opened up at the fresh foods dining I was thrilled. Basically the way this dining area worked is that they opened at 7am and students would pay to get in and then there would be made to order stations. I was under the impression when hired, that I would be prepping food and handing it out to students, maybe a little cleaning, and stocking items. GVSU had many chefs that were paid to make the meals.

I showed up to my first day of work very nervous and excited. I had to be there at 6:30am to set up. I had no one to report to and because of how poorly managed it was, no one showed me how to clock in or anything. When I finally figured out where I needed to go, the chef in charge of us 3 students was cranky because he had to do most of the set-up himself. I was assigned to the omelette station, which brought me some relief because I worked in a diner. With 10 minutes before we opened, I was a little nervous at the immense line to get in the place. "Right, so who here has made an omelette before?" barked the annoyed chef.

I looked at him like it was a joke. Surely WE  aren't cooking?! Keep in mind that when I say that I worked in food service that means that I did not make food. I just moved to lower Michigan and could barely cook ramen noodles at this point. Omelettes were way out of my comfort zone. The chef quickly demonstrated the process of cracking the eggs, adding the 30+ ingredients that the customers could order, and then taking a spatula around the edges and flipping the omelette in the air to cook the other side. I was horrified. I am a hazard! I cannot master flipping an omelette in the air in 3 minutes before we are bum-rushed by hundreds of students, if ever! What a bad idea! I found out that the chef's duty was not cooking but managing student workers. Why wasn't I put in the fresh fruit station. I looked over at the happy student workers at that station. Not a care in the world as they cut the watermelon into squares. I looked at the pastry station who were as equally happy setting out the pre-made muffins and bread. I got the shaft in this deal for sure. I was so pissed but I didn't have time to be angry because just then the doors opened and the students rushed in like the food would disappear in mid-air. I looked at the student worker next to me who was also making omelettes for the crowd. The crowd of students quickly lined up for our station and the line went outside.

The first student ordered his omelette with about 15 ingredients. I cracked the eggs into the pan and accidentally made him scrambled eggs because I couldn't remember the 10 minutes of omelette training that I had received. He was annoyed with me but walked away with my scrambled egg concoction without too much fuss. The next student ordered equally as many ingredients and this time I remembered to pour the egg in right. I looked over at the other student worker and was a little jealous that he had mastered the omelette making skills faster than I. I was about to flip the omelette in the sky but instead it splattered on the floor. I was embarrassed and quickly made another. This time I flipped it but not enough to get any air-time and it slipped to the edge of the pan and back down. I turned away from the student with my pan and took the spatula and flipped it over with a combo of the spatula and my fingers. "Oh well, a little germs never hurt anyone," I thought. The omelette was partially mutilated but workable. With the line just getting longer and my confidence level waining, I couldn't flip any more omelettes. I would burn the one side and the top I would leave raw, shove their ingredients in and cover the raw parts with cheese so that they couldn't tell. No matter how brown and awful my omelettes looked, the line never chose my co-worker over me. Every omelette I gave to the students, I gave them a sheepish smile that was to mean, "Sorry I am handing you your excuse for missing your class because of salmonella poisoning."
I worked till 11am and was never more glad to leave. The pastry and fruit station kids skipped as they left the building. I left with paranoia that an angry mob of students would be jumping me and beating me for making them wait an hour for an omelette that made them sick. No such mob occurred, thankfully. To this day, I have never made an omelette because of the awful memories.

Destroying the world one omelette du fromage at a time.--Jessica Masters