Grits Omelettes? Ohhhh yeah... It IS the Deep South...

If you aren't from this area and I'm not related to you, then you might not know that my primary source of income is as a home-based child care provider.  I've kept children in my home since 2001 after closing the day care.  I might still be in the day care business but the State of Mississippi was entirely too harsh on us folks that actually just wanted to take care of children.  The Health Department that regulates day cares in this state, was going to a 'closed hand' system of touching children, i.e., fingers together.  I don't know how they expected us to change a poopy diaper or put a barrette back into slithery hair (don't you wish your hair was still baby fine?) or apply a bandaid to a whole room of three year olds, but they did.  It was one headache after another and I had run out of ibuprofen.  We closed the daycare and five children came to stay with me during work hours in my home.

Last August the last big group of boys entered pre-kindergarten here, so it's just down to me and the gurl, MaLeah, a 7 year old being home-schooled using the ABeka curriculum on DVD, and Noah, cutest little 2 year old fellow born this side of the Mississippi, with exception of my two (and a whole slew of babies turning one this year in the area {but my two are the all-time most precious}).  I have the after-school fellows that get off the bus, near and dear to my heart, too.  Ian's mom was in my mother's kindergarten from the time she was 6 weeks old until she went to first grade.  Woodard's mom was the matron of honor in my wedding - we've known each other our entire lives.  She was wonderful enough to have Woodard for me when she was 40 years young and bring him to me to raise during the week.  The four of them comprise MayMay's Gang.  Amongst all the other things I'm called in life, MayMay is perhaps the sweetest.

But that gurl.  I'm glad to just have one to enjoy and send home at the end of her mom's work day.  MaLeah and I love grits.  And eggs.  Grits and eggs.  Scrambled or fried doesn't matter, just smashed, stirred, and eaten in the midst of creamy buttery black-peppery grits.  Tuesday morning I was going to fix/make/cook grits and eggs for our breakfast, having had some leftover grits in the refrigerator.  Mama lots of times will get the eggs 'bout half scrambled, slice cold grits, and put the slices of grits around in the pan to warm as the eggs continue to cook around them.  She'll give the whole pan of Southern goodness a flip and the grits will get a dolishus (MaLeah's phonetic spelling of delicious) crust on them.  You can't beat it with a stick.

I thought about making MaLeah's and Noah's and my breakfast like that -- about three minutes after the grits were already warmed in the microwave.  You just can't slice warm grits and if you can, you need to add some more water or milk and cook them a bit longer 'cause they're too thick! I had the six eggs already beaten and in the frying pan when the thought occurred to me to make a grits omelette, complete with cheese and real bacon bits too!

I catered a good-sized reception a couple of weeks ago where the hit of the food table was the praline bacon.  Yummmm.  Google it, now.  There was almost a full quart of that wonderful rendering of smoked-sliced-pork called bacon grease saved; stored as quickly as cooled in the refrigerator to be used the entire summer long cooking garden fresh vegetables.  I had used a big blop of bacon grease in the skillet Tuesday morning, saving the butter for later on in the week.  And six eggs:  large to extra-large free range organic fertilized farm eggs.  They're extra yellow and extra strong, much more so than those peely wally store bought eggs and provided by...you guessed it...Mama.

I dropped the grits by teaspoonfuls all around the eggs.  I don't put anything like milk or water in my eggs.  It's one of those odd things:  who wants watered or milked down eggs?  They say it makes them fluffy and light?  Pffft.  I like my eggs unfluffy and unlight, please, rather like eggs and not like souffle.

When the eggs had cooked a bit more, sharp cheddar cheese (because it was in the refrigerator already grated and ready to be thrown in) and bacon bits were generously added to the pan.

The photo of the finished omelette in the pan was blurry -- must've been because MaLeah and I were excitedly pacing, waiting for it to cool enough to consume.  Well.  That and it kind of didn't flip real pretty because it was so large.  But next time when I make this?  And make no mistake there will be a next time.  I'll use the standard two or three eggs for individual omelettes and it will flip just beautifully.  And I'll come back and post a photo then.  But this is what it looked like right before the grits-and-eggs-eating MaLeah-saurus came along and wiped it out.

Make one.  You won't regret it.  And if it doesn't fold or flip? OH Bless your heart.  Just stir it all up and lay on a blessing of black pepper and enjoy it that way.  Dolishus!!!

There's not really a recipe.  Really.  You saw it as it was put together.
Eggs.
Grits - and if they're cold, they can be sliced thin and probably work a little better.  Cheese.
Bacon bits.

I didn't use any salt;  the grits, bacon bits, and cheese already having enough sodium added to adequately season the omelette.  There's an unwritten law of the egg somewhere that says you can't eat any fried or scrambled egg product without enough black pepper to see from a distance of twenty feet.  Black pepper + scrambled or fried eggs = Good.

Y'all get a glass of something cold and pile up on your neighbor's porch.  You can be my neighbor.  Come on...

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Spell check keeps telling me I've spelled 'omelette' incorrectly.  It's suggesting I use 'omelet' instead.  Spell check needs a Southern Lexicon option.