Prosciutto, Cremini & Potato Frittata
It was a night for frittata and salad.
I felt a little touched in the head peeling each tiny red before slicing and soaking (to get rid of some of the starch).
And the mushrooms, cremini. I doubt I could have sliced them any thinner. One would think a madolin was at play.
The proscuitto. Roberto's charge. He also made quick work of one Serrano pepper.
"I don't think four eggs are going to be enough." I said.
"Make it five." He said.
The eggs were sweating by the time I closed the cartoon and retired them to the refrigerator door.
I looked at the clock. It's been seven hours since I've eaten. I thought I'd feel a bit more weary.
I scanned the counter. The salad, mixed greens, feta, red onion and a bit of out of season cucumber waited. The last of the baguette, sliced and ready to be toasted.
The medium pan was warmed with oil. The mushrooms and potatoes combined. Prosciutto. Serrano. Salt. Pepper. Eggs. Garden chives.
A rimless cookie sheet was oiled. The frittata flipped. I hold my breath. Only exhaling once it's slid back into the pan.
A new bottle of red opened.
"We're running dangerously low." He said.
"I know, but it will have to wait until we get back from Brooklyn." I said.
We charged ourselves with a few more tasks before sitting down. Roberto, the dishes. I, dress the salad.
"You know I'll need to take a few pictures." I said.
He knew.
