Sounds & Fury

Memo To The Fat Police: Stuff it!

The almost trillion-dollar fat-free industry, promoters of fat paranoia on a scale exceeded only by the extreme paranoia promoted by the crusading zealots — political, professional, and civilian — devoted to the secondhand smoke myth, needs to be exposed before it succeeds in robbing us totally of yet one more of life's greatest pleasures.

[We have been] told that fat [is] out of fashion and that eating fat made you fat. The food industry backed this claim with new products: reduced-fat, no-fat, fat-free. Everything fat-free came with a license to eat more and we did. And got fatter. By now we have been so long bombarded with fat-phobic fear mongering that much of it is considered accepted wisdom.

[...]

Fat, the fat we cook with and eat, is good for you.... Our bodies need fat. That's right — fat supports cellular growth, the immune system, the brain, and our hormone-producing endocrine system. We'd struggle to function without it. The low- and no-fat era of the last half century made us heavier, not healthier, and in the process has taken a lot of the pleasure from eating.

[...]

Fat in its natural state is not the enemy. You need it, and you love it. It makes all food taste better and even feel better. You crave it. The key is to use it well and to eat well.

Word!

RTWT here.

(Our thanks to the always indispensable Arts & Letters Daily for the link.)

ACD's Genuine, Unbelievably Super-terrific Philadelphia Cheesesteak

Want a naughty break from your regular, healthy, gourmet-quality food fare (your regular food fare is always healthy and gourmet-quality, right?)? I did last night, and rustled up this naughty, non-gourmet-delicious hot sandwich.

(CAUTION: If you're a "healthy food" freak, diet freak, physical fitness freak, or — Lord preserve us! — a vegetarian, this is not for you, and I don't want to hear any whining complaints or hysterical, paranoid predictions of cardiac doom from any of you. Just don't make or eat this sandwich, but let those who choose to do so enjoy themselves guiltlessly.)

What You Need (NO substitutes permitted)

(1) freshly baked, good quality “torpedo” roll
(135 grams) well-marbled, choice quality top round London broil sliced across the grain into thin "leaves" (best if you cut this yourself from a very well-chilled piece of meat using a razor-sharp chef's knife)
(2) squares of single-slice-pack WHITE American cheese (Kraft or Bordens is good)
(1/2) fairly large Spanish onion
(1) HOT cherry pepper (Cento is good)
Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce
McCormick powdered sage
McCormick powdered garlic
McCormick dried oregano
salt
freshly-ground black pepper
extra-virgin olive oil
Heinz ketchup

Preparation

Preheat oven to 250F.

Double-julienne the leaves of meat into strips about 3/4" X 1/4". Add to taste: sage, garlic, oregano, salt, and pepper. Toss well. Add generous amount of the Lea & Perrins. Toss until all the strips are well-coated. Add small amount of olive oil. Toss until all the strips are well-coated. Set aside to marinate while you go on with the rest of this. (Note: Do not add the oil before the Lea & Perrins as if you do, the L&P will not saturate the meat properly.)

With the flat side down on the cutting board, slice the hemisphere of onion into thin half-moon slices. Separate all the strands and set aside. Cut the hot cherry pepper into small strips (after removing the stem and seeds), and set aside. Cut cheese squares in half and set aside.

Over a medium-low fire, heat a few ounces of olive oil in a large, heavy skillet and add onion. Salt and pepper to taste, then toss onion to coat with oil. Cook until translucent. Do not let the onion take on any color (caramelization) as you want it to end up soft and full-limp with no hint of crunch.

Meanwhile, place “torpedo” roll in oven, and heat until crust is slightly crisp. Remove from oven and let cool a bit, then slice in half lengthwise but not all the way through so as to leave a “hinge” along one side. With roll “closed” (so the inside stays warm), set aside.

Lower fire under skillet a bit, push the onion strands to the edge of the skillet, then add the marinated steak strips to the freed-up space. Separate strips and let cook long enough to turn the strips a light brown on the skillet side but with a generous hint of red still on the top side (about a minute or two; if you cook longer at this point the meat will go rubbery when it's finished). Turn strips, lay cheese slices on top, and let the steak strips cook until the other side goes a light brown (about a minute or so).

(Note: By cooking the marinated steak strips in the same pan as the onion, the juices from the onion will effectively cause the steak strips to be steamed rather than sautéed. This is exactly what you want as, given well-marbled, choice quality meat, the combination of the short marinade and the steaming will make the steak strips go wonderfully tender.)

Immediately the steak strips go light brown on the second side, remove the skillet from the fire completely and start tossing the strips with the cheese. When the cheese just begins to go liquid (underline, just begins; the cheese should go fully liquid only after the steak and cheese mixture is in the roll), open the “torpedo” roll, scoop out with a large, slotted serving spoon (slotted so that you don't pick up excess oil and juice from the pan) what is now a steak and cheese mixture and heap evenly into the opened roll. Scoop out the onion and heap evenly on top of the steak and cheese mixture. Add the hot cherry pepper strips, and top off the whole thing with ketchup to taste. Close roll, cut in half across the width, and plate.

You are now the proud possessor of a genuine, unbelievably super-terrific, ACD Philadelphia cheesesteak.

Serve with your beer of choice (mine is Guinness Stout). Be sure to supply yourself with a damp paper towel and a fork. You'll almost certainly need both as I've never met the person who can eat this thing cleanly and neatly.

Yum!

It's Paradise, I Tell You!

It's enough to make a grown man salivate like a toothless infant while at the same time hallucinating a vision of having entered paradise — especially after a day-long fast.

Three friends and I wondered whether one of us should order fish [at New York's famed Peter Luger Steak House], just to try it.

"Do you go to Hawaii to ski?" the waiter huffed, letting us know that the only sensible decision was steak for four, along with creamed spinach, of course, and German potatoes, naturally.

What a steak it was. Even before I saw it I could smell it — the acrid top note of its char, the funky bottom note of properly aged beef. I could even hear it, still sizzling from its time in one of the high-temperature broilers.

It was already sliced, and the waiter buckled down to the familiar Luger ritual, putting some filet and some sirloin on each plate, then spooning the pooled juices over it. The beef had a subtle tang, an intense mineral quality, a crazy richness and a spectrum of textures: crunchy at the edges, tender at the bone. I had to keep reminding myself to take it easy, to slow down.

No other steakhouse serves a porterhouse so breathtaking.

Better than good sex, it is — at least when you've reached my age.

RTWT here (but, interestingly, it's more a critique than a rave).

A Dream Of A Salad

I'm one of those who almost never remembers the details of his dreams which is either a blessing or a curse depending, I guess, on what one has dreamt. The dream I had last night — or, rather, early this morning — was different. It was most vivid, and I remember everything about it right down to the smallest detail.

I was working at the front of a large woodtop worktable in the center of a kitchen unknown to me, and preparing, of all things, a salad; one made up of numerous ingredients. This was in itself quite odd as I almost never make salad or eat greens of any sort whatsoever. But there I was, dreaming of myself doing both, and thoroughly enjoying the experience.

When I awoke remembering the dream in all its detail, it struck me that what provoked the dream was my purchasing on Friday in behalf of a friend a sealed bag of Dole cut, washed, and premixed salad greens containing a mixture of iceberg and romaine lettuce, leaf lettuce, radicchio, and endive; a sealed bag that was still resident in the chiller drawer of my refrigerator. When I later checked my refrigerator further, I discovered that every other ingredient of my dream salad was in residence there as well.

Clearly, my dream was a personal command direct from God himself. No way my friend is ever going to see that bag of Dole salad greens.

Dream Salad
(serves 1)

1 sealed bag of Dole prepared salad greens; a mix called by Dole, "European"
2 large button mushrooms
1 breast of Perdue Rock Cornish Game Hen
8 grams of Pepperidge Farm Seasoned Croutons
1 hardboiled egg
Wedge of genuine Parmigiano Reggiano
Hellmann's Whole Egg Mayonnaise
Heinz Ketchup
Gold's Cocktail Sauce
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Slice the mushrooms thinly, and set aside on a plate in the fridge. Dice the hen breast small, and add to the plate of sliced mushrooms in the fridge. Place the croutons in a plastic bag, crush fine with a hammer (but not too fine), and set aside. Slice the hardboiled egg using an egg slicer, and add to the plate in the fridge with the mushrooms and diced hen breast. Prepare dressing by mixing the mayonnaise, ketchup, and cocktail sauce in proportions according to taste, and salt and pepper the resulting dressing to taste.

Onto a large chilled plate, lay out as much of the Dole salad greens as you can eat at one sitting. Add the mushrooms, diced hen breast, and sliced egg. Salt and pepper all to taste. Scatter the crushed croutons over all, and using your hands, quickly and lightly toss the salad.* Rough-grate the Parmigiano Reggiano over all to taste. Quickly and lightly toss the salad once more.* Add dressing to taste. Serve with wine of your choice.

Dreamy!

* If you're serving to someone, and you want the salad to look pretty when served at table, don't toss. Let the person you're serving do the tossing when he or she digs in.

The Annual Bird Post

You've all read or heard the experts with their esoteric "secrets" of turkey preparation to ensure a tender, juicy, beautifully browned roast bird for that Thanksgiving feast, right? Don't listen to them. Listen to me. There's but a single, at-bottom "secret" for ensuring a perfect roast bird: start with the right bird.

Supernal

The Hell Months of summer are again upon us and it's too damn hot to think or post on weighty things, so it must be time for the annual posting of the recipe for ACD's Supernal Egg Salad.

What's that I hear y'all saying? We don't need no steeenkin recipe for egg salad? A trained chimp could make an egg salad without a recipe? Hard-boil the eggs. Cool the eggs. Shell the eggs. Chop the eggs. Throw in some mayonnaise. Mix with the eggs. Voila! Egg salad.

Uh-huh. Egg salad fit strictly for the proles. Here's an egg salad fit for the gods. Follow these instructions to the letter, and you'll end up with a thick, creamy, wonderfully flavorsome egg salad that's amazingly fluffy-light on tongue and palate. Shortcut the instructions, and you'll end up with an egg salad fit only for the aforementioned proles — or your cat.

And as you read, keep in mind, boys and girls: it's all in the technique.

What You Need (Ingredients)

(6) fairly fresh large eggs (boiling time is for this egg size)
(4-5) tblsps whole-egg mayonnaise (Hellmann's is fine; Miracle Whip is not)
(1) tsp smooth, for-real Dijon mustard (Grey Poupon is fine)
(1) smidge Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce (no substitutes)
Salt
Black pepper, freshly ground

What You Need (Equipment)

(3) large bowls (the spun stainless steel type are best)
A fairly fine kitchen sieve (critical!).
An egg-slicer (not mandatory, but it makes the work go easier)

What You Do

Chill bowls in refrigerator.

Prepare the room-termperature eggs by setting them in the egg carton, pointy side down (that's the way they should come from the store). Using a safety pin, pierce the broad end of the egg. This insures that the gases that form while boiling escape, and therefore won't discolor the yolks with that yucky gray-green color around the edges, or build up that disgusting sulfur taste within the egg.

Fill a large pot (a pot large enough that the eggs won't be crowded when cooking) with enough water to comfortably cover the eggs even after the cooking is done. Cover, and bring water to full rolling boil. Quickly and gently transfer eggs to the boiling water. Cover pot, and very gently boil eggs for exactly 11 minutes. You don’t want the water boiling furiously. You'll have to lower the fire some after the water and eggs again come to a full boil (about 1 minute).

(Note: The eggs will not crack from the instant temperature change between room temperature and boiling water. If an egg does crack, it's because of a fault in the shell. Sometimes you can see the fault in advance; other times not. If an egg does crack, and the crack is small, you should be OK. If the crack is large, best to discard the offending egg.)

When eggs are about finished, take one of the chilled bowls from the fridge, and dump in a full tray of ice cubes. Fill with enough cold water to comfortably cover eggs. When eggs are done, turn off fire, quickly remove eggs from the hot water and lightly throw them into the iced water. This slightly cracks the shells, and insures quicker cooling to instantly stop the eggs from cooking once they're removed from the hot water. Place bowl with eggs and iced water into the refrigerator, and chill for at least 15 minutes. (Note: If you have a source of very cold running water, forget the ice and chill the eggs in the bowl with running cold water for at least 10 minutes.)

After eggs are fully chilled, place the bowl in the sink, and remove the shells from the eggs by banging the ends and then the sides of each egg all around against a flat, hard surface (the inside of the sink is handy and ideal). The shells will come off in a jiffy and very cleanly. Drop each shelled egg back into the iced water while you're removing the shells from the rest of the eggs.

Remove remaining two bowls from the refrigerator. Place sieve across one of the bowls. Then, one egg at a time, dry the egg, slice it, and separate yolk and white with the yolk going into the sieve, and the white into the other bowl. When all 6 eggs are sliced and separated, place bowl with whites back into the refrigerator.

With the back of a tablespoon, force yolks through the sieve into the bowl. This is the critical step, and the step most responsible for the fluffy texture and velvety mouth-feel of the finished salad. No, I've no idea why that makes the difference, but it does, my ignorance of the science behind it notwithstanding. Make sure to scrape into the bowl when you're done all the yolk that will adhere copiously to the outside of the sieve.

Add to the sieved yolks salt and pepper (careful with this; more salt and pepper will be added later). Then, in a separate small deep dish, mix one tblsp of the mayonnaise, Dijon mustard, and the smidge of L&P. Mix well, and add to the yolks. (Be very careful with the L&P. Just a smidge — about 1/8 tsp, I'm guessing — as it's very strong and will easily overwhelm the eggs and discolor the finished salad as well if too much is added.)

Then, mix the whole caboodle together using a fork, adding, a little at a time if necessary, more mayonnaise until the yolks finally reach a stiff, hold-together consistency. When finished, remove bowl with whites from refrigerator, and put bowl with yolks into the refrigerator.

Coarsely chop the whites. If you chop the whites too fine they'll "mush" together in the finished salad, and give it the wrong texture and the wrong taste (believe it or not). A large, very sharp chef's knife is the best tool to use for this step.

Remove yolk mixture from refrigerator, and dump the whites into the yolk mixture. Salt and pepper to taste. Add one tblsp of mayonnaise, then, gently and carefully begin folding whites, yolk mixture and mayonnaise together using one of those silicon or rubber pastry spatulas (if you're careless here, you'll end up "mushing" the whites), adding, a little at a time, more mayonnaise as needed to achieve a creamy, thick consistency. The consistency is correct when the salad just balls together, and leaves the sides of the bowl clean as you're mixing. If you add too much mayonnaise at this point you'll end up with a "watery" egg salad, and you don't want that. (The amount of mayonnaise can really fool you. When the mixture reaches the critical point, just an extra teaspoon or two more mayonnaise will ruin the whole salad.) Chill salad for at least one hour (more is better) before eating.

That's it. A supernal egg salad your palate will not soon forget.

Happy Hell Months, all. Or as happy as you can manage given the season.

Yum!

Sometimes the simplest of dishes hits the spot so perfectly that one would be loath to trade it for even a seven-course classic French banquet.

Dinner tonight:

Steamed fresh cabbage and little round white potatoes, quartered, both tossed in a lemon-butter sauce just before service as accompaniment to thin-sliced, top-cut, fatty corned beef (lightly steamed just before service so that it reaches full flavor), the dish served with a pint of Guinness Draught. And for dessert, a slice of Sara Lee Original Cream Classic Cheesecake, and a cup of freshly ground and brewed Columbian coffee.

Yum!

The Annual Winter Ritual Post

I celebrate this morning (early afternoon, actually: 1:35 PM EST) my annual winter ritual of First French Toast of Winter. Perhaps you'd like to make it your annual winter ritual as well. Piece of cake ... um, challah.

What You Need

(2) large (from the center of the loaf) 1"-thick slices of challah (a good-quality brioche will work too)
(4) strips fatty bacon or (2) medium-size pork sausages
(2) x-large eggs
1/4 cup heavy cream
1/4 teasp cinnamon
1/8 teasp nutmeg
1/4 teasp vanilla extract
(1) pinch salt
1/4 cup (or as much as you want) Grade A Dark Amber Vermont maple syrup

What You Do

Place serving plate into preheated 200°F oven.

Prepare batter by whisking together: eggs, cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and salt. Set aside.

In a heavy skillet, fry sausage or bacon strips (crisp). Set aside on separate plate in warming oven.

Heat another heavy skillet on medium-high fire. Dip one slice of challah or brioche into batter both sides. Dip long enough to saturate each side with batter about 1/8" deep into slice. Add generous pat of butter to skillet, wait until bubbling ceases, then lay in the batter-dipped challah or brioche slice. Fry each side until a mottled golden-brown. Add small pat of butter to one side of what is now a slice of French toast, and transfer slice to plate in oven.

Do the same for the second slice.

Stack both slices of French toast on a cutting board, and cut in half on the diagonal. Arrange the resulting four triangles on the heated plate. Pour the Vermont maple syrup over all the triangles. Place French Toast-laden plate back into oven for a minute or two to warm the syrup, then onto the dining table with it along with the separate plate containing the sausage or crisp bacon. (If you want to be fancy about it, you can lightly sprinkle some powdered sugar on the French Toast before bringing to table. I don't.)

Serve with French-roast coffee, and a glass of iced water.

Yum!

Happy Winter, y'all!

How Stupid Was That?

Directed there by a link on the main page of The New York Times online edition, I was moved this past Tuesday (22 November) to enter a forum post in an ongoing discussion in the Cooking & Recipes section of the New York Times's Dining & Wine forum giving the link to my "Annual Bird Post" on this blog (NOTE: link updated 11/14/07), saying it might be of some interest to forum members as the current topic of forum discussion was, quite properly, how best to roast a turkey. The discussion was being led by the Times's Kim Severson, a cooking expert who writes for the Dining section of the Times, and whose most recent piece for that section dealt with simple approaches to roasting a turkey.

As of Thanksgiving Day, well over 150 persons had followed that link (as did, I'm absolutely certain, Ms. Severson herself), yet my forum post received not a single response or comment in the forum.

This, thought I, is most peculiar, and tried to think of what might explain the lack.

And then it hit me.

The lede graf of my "Annual Bird Post" opens with these three charming sentences:

You've all read or heard the experts with their esoteric "secrets" of turkey preparation to ensure a tender, juicy, beautifully browned roast bird for that Thanksgiving feast, right? Don't listen to them. Listen to me.

I'm too stupid to live.

Another Victory For Pop Culture

And in an unexpected domain, too.

And the beat goes on ... and on, and on, and on.

O tempora! O mores!

(Thanks to the always indispensable Arts & Letters Daily for the link.)

Lox And Bagel

Here's how to make a lox and bagel sandwich.

What's that? You know how to make a lox and bagel sandwich?

No you don't. You only think you do.

Pay attention.

You need:

• (1) New York water bagel: plain, poppy seed, or caraway seed. Any other junk in or on the bagel is not permitted. (If you have no access to this delicacy, read no further. It's hopeless.)
• 1/4-3/8 lb very thinly sliced lox (salt-cured salmon; tough to find nowadays), or nova (lightly smoked, brine-cured salmon). Norwegian or Scottish nova is best. If you've no access to a genuine Jewish deli, this can be had pre-sliced in vacuum-sealed plastic packages in most high-class supermarkets. From here on in, I'll refer to both lox and nova as lox.
• 4 oz Philadelphia Cream Cheese, original style (no substitutes, and not the "lite" or "easy-spread" style either; it's loaded with chemical junk).
• (1) medium red onion
• (1) slice genuine imported Swiss cheese, thinly sliced (optional ingredient)
• Salt
• Freshly ground black pepper

Now, proceed as follows:

Bunch the lox slices loosely on a plate, and set aside to allow the lox to lose its initial refrigerator chill. The lox is at the right temperature when it just becomes completely limp.

Cut bagel in half through (along) its diameter. Very lightly toast, if desired.

From the center of the onion, slice off one or two tissue-thin slices. Leave slices whole, or separate into strands if desired.

On the bottom half of the bagel, lay down a slab of the full 4 oz of cream cheese (or as much of it as is necessary) to cover entire bottom half of bagel to a depth of 3/16"-1/4" at all points including the hole.

Lay down the sliced onion (or pile on the strands), and very lightly press into cream cheese. Lightly salt and pepper.

Plop the lox onto the onion. Do not lay down the lox in flat slices. Plopped lox contains lots of air spaces among the folds which work wonderfully to intensify the flavor of the lox. (To get an idea of what plopped lox looks like, pick up a slice of temperature-correct lox, and hold between your thumb and first two fingers. Raise the lox slice about a foot above the cutting board, and let the lox drop. What you see on the cutting board is properly plopped lox.) Lightly salt and pepper (if you're using regular lox rather than nova, forget the salt).

Gently gather the Swiss cheese slice between your fingers into a plopped (as opposed to flat) shape, and lay it on top of the lox.

Replace top of bagel.

Cut sandwich in half, top to bottom.

Let sit to meld all the flavors while you make a pot of coffee (at least three cups; two to drink with the sandwich, and one for after).

Serve sandwich with a glass of iced water, and a cup of coffee.

Fress! Slowly savor each luscious bite. If you finish off the sandwich in less than 20 minutes you ate too fast, and savored too little.

Afterwards, light up a cigarette, pour a final cup of coffee, and luxuriate.

(Whaddaya mean you don't smoke? Makes no bloody difference. Smoke anyway. A lox and bagel sandwich without a closing smoke is like great sex without a closing smoke, or home without Plumtree's Potted Meat: incomplete.)

And never say I never did anything for you.

On How To Properly Scramble Eggs

First, we need a definition.

Properly scrambled eggs are soft and creamy through and through, with fairly large curds (as opposed to eggs scrambled for making an omelet where the curds are kept very small), and without a trace of liquid egg anywhere except as a slight sheen on the surface of the curds throughout. Technique is everything in getting this right, so if this is your first time expect to waste a dozen or so eggs before you get the hang of it. And please, don't be daunted by the detail of these instructions. It reads lots longer and lots more complicated than it is in actual practice.

What you need

(2) or (3) extra-large fresh eggs
Unsalted butter
Salt
Pepper
A thick-bottomed, non-stick, super-clean, slope-sided 8" or 9" skillet (I reserve a skillet to be used for eggs only, and never use it for any other purpose)
A rubber spatula

What you do

Break and whisk eggs together in a bowl until the whites and yolks are a completely integrated yellow mixture with no streaks anywhere. Never add anything to the eggs until after they're done (a single exception is noted below). Especially do not add salt as that will tend to toughen the eggs.

Next, heat the skillet over a whisper-low fire, and after a minute or two, add a generous pat of butter. Skillet is at the proper temperature when the butter just melts with no trace of bubbling. Swirl the butter around bottom and sides of skillet, or use the rubber spatula to do it.

Then, quickly pour the whisked eggs into the skillet, and give them an initial mix throughout with the rubber spatula, being certain to scrape down the sides of the skillet so that no egg adheres to them (scraping down the sides is something you do every time the egg mixture is moved within the skillet). The first "set" of the egg mixture takes a bit of time (maybe 45 seconds or so). Thereafter, the egg mixture requires your constant attention as the cooking of each subsequent "set" will go very fast indeed (a matter of 10-15 seconds or so for each "set"). While cooking, watch the egg mixture closely, and be cognizant of the heat of the skillet at all times. You may even need to remove the skillet from the fire every once in a while during cooking to keep it from getting too hot. To determine when a "set" is complete, gently give skillet a horizontal shake every 5 seconds or so with the skillet flush and in contact with the burner (gently so as not to interrupt the forming of the curds if they're not quite set, or, alternatively, you can give the skillet a slight tilt instead of shaking it).

At the first sign that the bottom of the egg mixture (that part of the mixture in direct contact with the bottom of the skillet) is moving more slowly than the still fully liquid top, scrape the egg mixture from one side of the skillet to the other with the rubber spatula, turning the newly formed curds upside down as you do, so that the still fully liquid top of the curds comes into direct contact with the bottom of the skillet, then immediately give the skillet a vigorous horizontal shake, and again scrape down the sides. This vigorous horizontal shake is important as it spreads the still completely liquid portion of the egg mixture evenly over the bottom of the skillet. If the newly formed upsided curds appear dry or dull on their surface instead of having a slightly wet sheen it means they've been in direct contact with the skillet bottom slightly too long. No problem. With the rubber spatula, simply move the offending curds through the still completely liquid part of the egg mixture to coat them with liquid egg.

Repeat this entire routine until the egg mixture shows only a very small amount of completely liquid egg left, at which point add a generous pat of cold butter to the egg mixture (if the butter is too warm it will "break"), and quickly but gently incorporate it into the eggs being careful not to break up the formed curds. When the vigorous horizontal shaking of the skillet shows just a mere trace of liquid egg spreading out, the scrambled eggs are done (you want to retain that mere trace of liquid egg because the eggs will continue cooking just a tiny bit once they're plated). Quickly move the scrambled eggs to one side of the skillet with the rubber spatula, then turn them out onto a warmed plate (and I do mean quickly; leaving the done eggs in the skillet only a few extra seconds will be certain to turn at least a portion of them slightly "hard" and dry). Salt and pepper to taste.

As I've already noted, technique is everything in getting this right, so if this is your first time expect to waste a dozen or so eggs before getting the hang of it. After that, it will all go like second nature.

Trust me.