When an Omelet Really Matters

At one point in my life, summer camp for me was taking a Blue Bird school bus to Juneau, Alaska, and back. Now to remind you, I live in Austin, Texas. At that point, I grew up in Houston, so it's quite a drive. A van would come pick us up in Houston, drop us off in Austin, and then we'd go to Juneau, Alaska. We only slept inside in two places: Yellowstone because of the bears and when we were in Juneau, as somebody had an unfinished house. I did this three years in a row. It never occurred to me that the house was not yet finished all three years. Although weird, looking back, it seems absolutely Juneau. Anyway, a situation came up last night, and it reminded me of the traditional camp omelet cook-off. I've always been a pretty good cooker of eggs, all the while knowing that a lot of people just can't cook them, but one thing you can't tell anyone who doesn't know how to cook eggs is that they don't know how to cook eggs. Only if you know how to cook eggs do you know the burdensome…