How to Make a Good Tortilla de Patatas, or Spanish Omelet, or Omelet with Potatoes and Onions, or Scrambled Eggs with Potatoes and Onions - Depending on How it Turns Out, or Your Point of View

The first thing you have to understand is that your first attempt at making this Spanish staple, will be a complete disaster and utter failure and you will most likely end up with dry scrambled eggs, soggy potatoes, and burnt pieces of onions. I’ve been making these for the last year, and half the time they come out in a mess, and make me want to smash my frying pan against the wall and then throw the crappy eggs, potatoes and onions out the window, as if it were a Spanish holiday and I were celebrating by festively tossing out the cornerstone of their cuisine.

Its history is disputed and not really relevant, but I’m going to talk about it anyway. At some point in the 19^th Century, Spanish people were fighting a war against other Spanish people, somewhere in Spain. The armies didn’t have a lot of food, but they had an abundance of eggs and potatoes, so they got pissed off and really desperate, and decided to get crazy and throw their two ingredients together. The result would go on to be served as free appetizers with tiny bottles of beer all over Spain two hundred years later and spawn countless impersonators all over the world.

Before coming to Spain, I thought a Spanish omelet was what anyone in North America would consider an omelet but with the addition of some onions- as it appears in any typical breakfast joint; or maybe an omelet with onions, peppers, and hashbrowns if you frequent a classy breakfast place where girls go to have brunch and the meal is finished with a slice of cantaloupe or some other fruit that isn’t preserved in some variety of Del Monte can. Well, that’s not a Spanish omelet. That apparently, is simply an omelet with onions that diner proprietors throw ‘Spanish’ in front of to sound classy and cheat ignorant people like me into ordering it, and it works, because I see and ask for it to make myself feel cultured and worldly. Sometimes, a touch of class is necessary, especially when you’re sitting in a diner at 1 o’clock on a Saturday afternoon in your sweatpants because you woke up a half hour ago and are too hung over to make yourself some breakfast to soak up the alcohol from the night before. An omelet with onions does nothing for your self-esteem. A Spanish omelet makes you feel a little less ashamed of yourself – as if you’re growing, maturing, developing, and the sweatpants and hangover are simply blips on the radar.

The real Spanish omelet, or Tortilla de Patatas, resembles more of a really thick omelet - or egg pie, if you will - with softly fried potatoes and onions embedded in it. It sounds really simple and bland, but it’s fantastic. The first time I tried it I wanted to ram my fist into it in anger; in anger because I had not been exposed to its deliciousness sooner and had been wasting my time with stupid Denver omelets.

A good Spanish omelet is moist and salty. It possesses a soft and gentle texture where the onion adds sweetness and the potato retains the flavor of the olive oil it is fried in, giving it the taste of a French fry, but the texture of a mashed potato. The egg is browned on the outside but moist on the inside, without an overpowering eggy taste. When all these components are combined into one mouthful, the result is a delicious and delectable Spanish party in your mouth, but without the sexual connotations that come to mind when I say, ‘delicious and delectable Spanish party in your mouth’. However, as simple as the ingredients and final product must sound, producing a good Spanish omelet is one of the most difficult, frustrating, and exasperating cooking challenges you will ever undertake. It’s almost as hard as boiling eggs well, or making pizza dough from scratch, which I have entirely given up because it’s stupid and impossible and I can just buy my pizza ready made and save myself the headache and the smashing of things in my kitchen.

Each person has their own backwards and confusing technique to cooking a Spanish omelet. I’ve asked anyone willing to listen and answer, and they all tell me a different method, which makes me feel like they’re lying to me, or unwilling to reveal their personal tricks, or waiting until I leave to laugh behind my back. Nevertheless, out of all the information, tips, secrets, and countless failures I’ve endured, I’m going to share with you the limited and unreliable expertise I have amassed.

You need to approach cooking a Spanish omelet with a strategy - almost as if you were playing a game of chess, or if you’re like me and don’t like chess, approach it as if you’re playing connect four…or even hungry hungry hippos, because it’s not about strength and smashing the knob as fat and furious as you can; only the clever and cunning end up with all the marbles, and leave the rest of the four year olds to wallow in their shame, defeat, and snot dribbling down their nose because they have not yet attained the sensation, ability, and self-awareness to know it’s there and wipe it off.

First, you need to slice the potatoes into half-centimeter chips and slowly fry them on a low-medium heat. Now I only say fry because you’re using olive oil. It’s really more like you have to boil the potatoes in oil on low-medium heat.  You cook it on a low temperature because you don’t want the potatoes to crisp or brown on the outside - you want to keep the starchy bastards nice and soft to maintain the same texture throughout. This should take about 15 minutes of wondering why they’re taking so long, repeatedly asking yourself if they’re ready to be taken out, and whether you should just scrap the whole idea and make some chicken noodle soup from the can. As soon as you can softly put a spatula through the frying/boiling potatoes and they split easily or crumble away, you can drain them from the oil.

When the potatoes are drained, dump them in a bowl and stir in the eggs until the mixture is runny but you can still densely feel and see potatoes. I usually use 6 eggs for every 2 mid-sized potatoes, but like I’ve said before, I’m not a scientist. I guess I could use more specific measurements but that would require more work, precision, and of course measuring, and there’s no real reason, but I just don’t want to do that.

When the eggs have been mixed into the potatoes, literally throw in a fist of salt. No, don’t throw in a fist of salt. Start adding in pinches of salt, and when you think you’ve put in too much, throw in another one. Trust me. Or don’t. You do whatever you want. It’s your omelet. Don’t even use potatoes. Read this and make me look like an idiot by making fried eggs instead, I don’t care.

If you’d still like to continue making the omelet, take another frying pan and add two tablespoons of oil onto medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, add the egg and potato mixture. Be sure not to burn yourself because that would be stupid and painful. As soon as the eggs go in, turn the heat down to low-medium heat. Why would you do that? Because the Spanish, just like their grammar, like to make things difficult. You also do it to let the omelet cook evenly so you don’t burn the outside and leave the inside raw and runny like the aforementioned 4 year olds’ noses.

After about 5 minutes (and I’m seriously estimating here and not sure at all about the timing because I looked up in the air, thought about it for a second, and nonchalantly agreed that 5 seemed like a good enough number) or when shaking the pan slightly, you can see that the bottom’s firmed up a little and the top is still runny, place a large plate on top of the frying pan that’s big enough to extend beyond the rim of the pan, flip the omelet over onto the plate, and slide the runny part down, back into the pan. You should probably do this over the sink, because in all likelihood, the omelet will probably end up in there, as it has with me…once…every three times I try to make it.

With the heat still on low-medium, let the omelet cook for another 5 minutes (I’m using the same logic and lackadaisical measuring I did earlier).  By touching the middle of the omelet, you should be able to gage whether it’s done. If it’s firm, it’s pretty much there, but if it still feels soft, lacks density, and your finger dips into it as easily as it does when you pick your nose, the eggs are still runny and it’s not ready yet. Leave it on there and relax. Or if you’re really hungry and you want to see what a mess you’ve made, pierce the omelet at the center with a fork so the middle cooks a little faster, but don’t go crazy, because too many piercings and too much heat will leave it drier than the prunes your grandfather eats to keep him regular.

When the middle has finally firmed up, slide the omelet onto a plate and celebrate in triumph or cry in shame, depending on the outcome. Wait a few minutes before you carve it up and eat it. It should taste really good. If it doesn’t, you fucked up.

I generally use 2 potatoes and one small onion for every six eggs. You should have enough olive oil to cover the potatoes while frying them. An omelet of this size should feed 4, or if you’re really hungry, 2, and if you’re sad and an emotional eater or just really really hungry, then it will comfortably feed 1. If you try it and don’t like it, just stick to Denver omelets.