Making a good - yes, alright, a perfect! - omlet...or omelette...still gives me a thrill. Because it is still new.
Three good eggs, a splash of milk, salt and pepper, whisk. A hot pan (my mistake had been a gentle pan, tsk) with plenty of butter swirled up the edges.
I like a very simple omlet. Or omelette. Cheese, chives. You can see, above, that I was sloppy and did not pull out the one dry chive. Bother.
The magic part. Sliding a long, rounded knife along the edges to lift them, then sliding it underneath the sharply tilted pan to fold the top one half over the other. The inside of the omlet is barely set (a state described by Julia Childe, as Stephen Orr recently told me, as pleureuse - weeping).
I have no idea how Selina makes perfect omelettes (they are not omlets) for three people, at once.