The French omelette and the Italian frittata are just about as different from each other as the French are from the Italians. One is all fluff and show, a bit like a peacock showing its tail. Don't get me wrong: I love a good French omelette-the lightness of the egg as it is fluffed in the pan, the flavour of good country butter and the last-minute touch, a garnish (the most famous being the seventeenth-century treat of carp roe and tuna). A French omelette needs to be consumed toute suite, otherwise it loses its oomph, like when the peacock folds his tail and walks away. The butter congeals on the plate, as does the fat from the lardons, or bacon bits, and, well, you get the idea.