The Best Frittata

Pay attention. Frittata. The BEST frittata, the greatest frittata ever assembled in a skillet — and I've had frittatas in every state, twice, plus three countries you've never heard of. I had a frittata in a hut on a hillside in Umbria, the woman who made it didn't speak a word of English, she just slid it in front of me, watched my face, and nodded. That was a great frittata. THIS frittata is better. The Italians invented the form, beautiful people, wonderful people, they should send me flowers because I perfected the function. Not even close.

Most so-called food experts will tell you a frittata is 'just a flat omelet.' Wrong. WRONG. A frittata is a celebration. A frittata is what you make when you want to feel like a person with options. You start it on the stove, you finish it in the oven, you slice it like a pie, you eat it hot or cold, breakfast or lunch or dinner. A four-meal weapon. The omelet could NEVER. If your chef tells you they're the same thing, find a new chef — it's that simple, that's a chef who has given up.

The real secret is to PRECOOK your fillings. Most people throw raw vegetables into a frittata and then wonder why it tastes like a wet garden. Sauté first. Season as you go. Take the time. And the eggs? Whisk them like you mean it — with CREAM, not milk. Milk is a downgrade, milk is a shortcut, milk is the kind of decision a person makes when they've stopped caring. Many people don't know this. Now you do. You're welcome.

The frittata is the most underrated weapon in the kitchen. You can make it on a Sunday and eat it Tuesday cold out of the fridge standing at the counter and it's still magnificent. It packs into lunch boxes. It works for brunch. It works for dinner with a salad. It works at 2 a.m. when you've made bad choices and you need to course-correct. People come up to me, big strong people, tough people, and they say, Bigly, the frittata saved my week. I know it did. That's what it does. And there you have it.