A few days back, while writing a chapter for one of my in-work novels, my protagonist cracked some eggs, diced and whipped up a few ingredients and cooked a Spanish Omelette. Well, add this to the things I love about writing: I finally got the courage to cook up one of these.

Add this also to one of the many dishes I’ve picked up from my Dad. Growing up, well, actually, once we came to the states, where he could procure all the ingredients, Dad would combine eggs, potatoes, chorizo, onions and a few other tasty things to make us a tortilla, a.k.a., Spanish Omelette. And tonight, Dad, with a few halts and semi-mistakes, I got it to work. Especially the flip-onto-a-lid-and-slide-back-into-the-pan-to-brown-the-uncooked-side trick, which I did over the sink, just in case — highly recommended, by the way. Bottom line, there it is, thick, warm and tasty.

My one big regret: afraid of culinary disaster, I decided to try this out on my own. Next time, I’ll team up with at least three other hungry folks to enjoy the results. Taking sign-ups now…