“One day, among others, having purposely gone out of my way to take a nearer view of a spot that appeared delightful, I was so charmed with it, and wandered round it so often, that at length I completely lost myself, and after several hours' useless walking, weary, fainting with hunger and thirst, I entered a peasant's hut, which had not indeed a very promising appearance, but was the only one I could discover near me. I thought it was here, as at Geneva, or in Switzerland, where the inhabitants, living at ease, have it in their power to exercise hospitality. I entreated the countryman to give me some dinner, offering to pay for it: on which he presented me with some skimmed milk and coarse barley-bread, saying it was all he had. I drank the milk with pleasure, and ate the bread, chaff and all; but it was not very restorative to a man sinking with fatigue. The countryman, who watched me narrowly, judged the truth of my story by my appetite, and presently (after having said that he plainly saw I was an honest, good-natured young man, and did not come to betray him) opened a little trap door by the side of his kitchen, went down, and returned a moment after with a good brown loaf of pure wheat, the remains of a well-flavored ham, and a bottle of wine, the sight of which rejoiced my heart more than all the rest: he then prepared a good thick omelet, and I made such a dinner as none but a walking traveller ever enjoyed.”
A cook of roughly the same moment, setting down the same dish.
2 ounces of stale bread (one large slice). 1 gill of boiling water. 1 gill of cold milk. 1 level teaspoonful of salt. 2 eggs. 1 tablespoonful of butter. Have the bread free from crust. Pour the boiling water over it. When soft, add the salt and milk, and break up with a spoon. Beat the yolks and whites of the eggs separately, and stir into the bread mixture. Put the butter in a frying-pan of good size, and set on the fire. When hot, turn in the omelet, and cook until it begins to set; drawing it back a little, as you would a plain omelet. Fold, and brown slightly. Turn out on a hot dish, and serve at once.
Sources: The passage is from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Confessions of Jean Jacques Rousseau — Complete, free to read in full at Project Gutenberg. The recipe is from Parloa, Miss Parloa's Young Housekeeper of 1893, also free in full. Both are in the public domain in the United States. The binding above is ours — navy cloth, grapes stamp.