Explore "The Silver Omelet" by Charles Fletcher Lummis on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Doubtless you should not be blamed for a sniff of incredulity when I come to mention the size of it, though you certainly have not made as many omelets as I did in the years of keeping house on the frontier "all by my lonesome," and though you probably could not turn one now by flapping it to within six inches of the ceiling and catching it, t'other side up, in the frying pan, as every fit frontiersman should. But blink as you will, it is a solemn truth that we are now sitting down to an omelet two feet and a half thick and a little matter of one hundred and ten feet across! And worth more than all the food your whole household could eat in a generation.
The worst of it was that the _chef_ was away. Don Ygnacio, who had served up these gigantic dishes for thirty years, and had the knack of them, was to-day in Dolores; and in charge of the range was a fuzzy-faced lad of eighteen who had never turned a Guanajuato omelet in his life.