My friend Megan and I have a standing coffee date...so to speak. We do in fact regularly get together, but usually neither of us actually drinks coffee, and we always at least tentatively plan the next round by the end of each rendez-vous. It's a nice way to explore the city, particularly under the pretense of studying (which, again, rarely actually takes place).
San Francisco is nice, but only nice so far. I hoped to fall hard and fast and it turns out we are still uncertain whether our flirtations will lead to a hot and heavy romance or simply a polite and casual acquaintance. However, I must give credit where due and proclaim the cafes of San Francisco the best I have experienced in the wide world (NB: This means SF beats out the likes of Paris, Venice, Rome, Prague, London, Wellington, Sarajevo, Melbourne, Portland -- Oregon as well as Maine, New York, and Nice; but I'm holding out for various locations throughout Austria, Turkey, Morocco, and Spain).
We most recently met at Cafe Du Soleil in Lower Haight, a charming boulangerie-style establishment with enchanting almond croissants and a decent hazelnut iced coffee. We split a bowl of almond granola with yogurt and chopped fruit, but when Megan departed and I tried to attack my overflowing inbox I kept getting distracted by the vegetable quiches lurking invitingly a few feet from my table. Round, puffy, and crammed full of unidentifiable verdure, they seemed an ideal afternoon companion.
However, the owners of this lovely locale, like so many others in San Francisco, decided to board up the various electric outlets scattered around the walls, presumably in a move to "encourage" patrons to move on once their (my) sparse battery power expired. Yes, I could have stayed and gobbled down the coveted quiche, but on principle if for nothing else ("nothing else" being a stand in for "my starving-student bank account") I vacated Cafe Du Soleil and headed home in search of a comparable (superior?) egg dish.
And now we're getting to it -- what a prologue for this little Tuesday omelette. However, I assure you this omelette warrants the prologue and perhaps a thoughtful after-word as well. Walking home I realized that in addition to craving eggs, I really, really needed sun-dried tomatoes. Immediately. There were other unmet needs I identified as well, and the bus ride home was quite nearly excruciating (we see that someone has let her hunger go a tad too long unattended). When I arrived home I set right to work:
1/4 onion, chopped, fried (ok, I meant to sweetly saute, but in my impatience I let the oil get just a little too hot and I can't say I'm sorry). 2 Tablespoons sun-dried tomatoes, nicely lubed up in their packing oil, sliced and given just enough time to flirt with those with those sizzling onions and let things heat up a bit. A shake of dried oregano and a few nice dashes of powdered coriander for some subtle spice, then in go two eggs beaten (aggressively) with a healthy spoonful of grated parmesan and generous pinches of sea salt and cracked pepper. Cook; flip; serve on sourdough toast with a rim of sriracha.
It was a hot kind of day.