Reviewed positively and glowingly as the best darn omelet in the universe. Proposed as good for camping, easy, reliable, fascinating, and fun. With remarks cogent as that, how could I refuse trying my hand?
* ingredients do not need to be pre-cooked
* inserting the plastic bag in a mug first helps in loading ingredients
* remove the air from the bag
* use a sufficiently large pot so the sides do not melt the plastic
* be sure to seal the plastic bag completely
Conclusion:
Bogus.
The people who wrote the reviews most likely don't know a well made traditional omelet from a sub standard frittata. I much prefer the texture of the real thing, that is, egg curd cooked gently piled toward the center of the pan with the texture and composition closely controlled. This is more like egg mush congealed with the ingredients dispersed randomly throughout. It is culinarily unappealing and barely palatable. Naturally, I scarfed it without further thought, to make it go away. If I was served this, I would assume the cook didn't know what they were doing. Which is fine, just say'n. Using a pan to make an omelet, the cook has complete control and the whole thing cooks within just a few minutes. However boiling in a bag this way takes at least four times longer and you're not exactly sure when it's done. This is exacerbated at altitude where water boils at least 10˚ lower. Undercooked eggs are runny, over cooked eggs are rubbery. Doneness is pure guesswork. Finally, I wouldn't want to do this even camping. It's probably OK for a child, if only by way of introduction or novelty.
But don't take my word for it -- I'm an omelet elitist. I've never met anybody who makes them as good as I do, and that's no idle brag, just plain and simple fact. A few weeks ago I had a chance to observe a professional cook whose duty it was to prepare omelets at a buffet. I felt only pity. Pity for the people being served his omelets who themselves didn't know any better. How's that for snobbery? The cook turned away from his inadequate heating element set up at the buffet and with an omelet in the pan and a customer waiting, right at the critical moment when he should have been turning it out of the pan, the cook turned to cut off a piece of roast beef which was also his duty. Then I felt guilt for having distracted him at the worst possible moment, but neither the cook nor the person being served was even phased by this transgression. The depth of my distain at this made me feel positively French. Don't I sound like a lot of fun?
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