Mumlette

 

Mumlette is not omelette mispronounced. It is an altogether different dish (and memories associated with it). Omelette is the fancier cousin…the one who visits Kolkata (from abroad) once a year and stands out with their accent and need for toilet paper.

Omelette is the cheesy perfection that chefs make for you at restaurants (or what you have “learnt” to make at home), usually for breakfast or a healthy lunch. Fluffy, gooey and often loaded with veggies we may not have grown up eating (mushrooms, olives, peppers), it is folded a way that radiates a certain level of mastery in the kitchen.

Mumlette is not cheesy like that (literally or otherwise). No, sir. It is totally comfortable with its rough edges (literally) and that uneven half-moon fold. Often cooked in Bengali households with “shorsher tel” (mustard oil), it is a go-to snack/meal, for anytime of the day. Be it the unannounced guest at 7pm or the “gaaner didimoni” (music teacher) at 4pm on Wednesdays or “onker sir” (Maths tutor) at 9am on Saturday mornings, or the common “Ma khub khidey peyeche” (Ma, I am hungry) after school….a mumlette is the unsung hero of a Bengali household, next only to Maggi (especially in Kolkata). Or such is my memory from my growing-up days, back in the 90s. I am sure the healthier olive oil has replaced the mustard oil in most kitchens in India now….and pastries/cookies/puffs/chicken nuggets are the go-to snacks these days.

But today, I ditched the olive oil, cheese and mushrooms to make a proper mumlette. With red onions and green chillies (coriander leaves would have made it perfect, but I didn’t have any), my mumlette was just the imperfect perfection I was aiming for. And yes, I can vouch for its teleporting powers. I could almost hear my “gaaner sir” play the harmonium and see Ma walking into the room with a tray, carefully balancing the tea and biscuits on one side, and a plate with the mumlette on the other…