#1199 Egg That’s About to Cover the Rice Any Second

Omelette rice.

You shall become Platy’s one true taste of home!!!

Why omurice? Because there isn’t a kid alive who hates the stuff!

Back in the day, there was a key phrase for kid‑approved junk food: “O-kaa‑san wa Yasume (Mom, take the day off)” built from the initials of nine classic dishes.

Omurice holds one of the nine squares.

The irony is that Platy’s long‑sought “Mom’s cooking” is coming straight from that phrase.

And out of all nine, why did I pick omurice in particular…?

Because I’ve never made it before.

It’s such a hassle, y’know.

Cooking chicken rice and an omelet in parallel is a pain.

Sure, you could do them one after the other, but still.

Then, you have to wrap the rice in the egg; botch that and it’s game over.

Worst of all, you repeat the whole process for every single serving…

With stews you just dump everything in one pot.

That’s why curry’s such a hit. It’s easy on both the eater and the cook.

So yeah, I’ve dodged omurice till now.

But not anymore, because Platy’s taking the plunge.

“Got it! I’ll master this omurice thing and carve an unforgettable mark into the kids’ brains!”

Nice choice of words.

Maybe don’t call memories “marks.”

All right, demo time. First, I’ll make a textbook omurice.

Two main elements: the rolled omelet and the chicken rice.

For the omelet: eggs. That’s it.

For the chicken rice: rice, fillings, seasonings.

Stir‑fry the rice with fillings and seasonings and chicken rice is born.

At the same time, beaten eggs go into another pan.

Fry the rice, cook the omelet.

Doing both is the hard part of omurice.

Yet both pans behave; everything looks perfect.

Maybe I really am good at multitasking?

Now the nerve‑racking finale: wrapping the rice in the omelet.

Tear the egg and it’s all over; visually, anyway.

But I’ve got years of experience and the Supreme Bearer.

Not a single grain sticks out. Perfect fit!

Beautiful...beautiful!

Even the frilly edges gleam!

Behold, the ideal omuriceeeeee!!!

Hold your applause!

It isn’t finished yet!

Final touch: ketchup across the top!

Tradition says you write something!

In ketchup script: “Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you’ll be criticized anyway.” Okay, perfect.

And now, the must‑cast flavor spell:

Delicious‑o beam! Moe‑moeeeee! Kyun!!!

“What are you doing, Dear? Gross!”

Gwaaaaaah!

Why so honest?!

Platy, you’ll have to chant it, too! Those are the omurice rules!

“Anyway, time for a taste…”

Platy scoops up egg and rice, takes a bite, and...

“SO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!”

An excellent reaction.

“What is this?! It’s so tasty! The fluffy egg makes the chewy rice pop! The rice is perfectly seasoned, the fillings add all kinds of textures! My mouth feels like a theme park right nowwwww!!!”

Impressive vocabulary.

“You expect me to make this, Dear? I can’t possibly copy it...!”

You’ve got this, Platy.

She isn’t a bad cook.

She brews complicated potions daily.

Cooking’s basically chemistry.

It’s just that never gets the chance because I usually handle meals.

Give it a try and she’ll nail it.

She’s got the potential.

“All righty! Challenge accepted!”

Thus began Platy’s Omurice Training Arc.

“Gyaa! The egg tore!”

“While I watched the rice, the omelet burned black!”

“The rice is sticking out!”

“A typo in the ketchup message?!”

“I used sticky rice by mistake!”

“Uh… this is fried rice, not chicken rice!”

Alas, the road was anything but smooth.

Failure after failure piled up.

“Hey, fish‑for‑brains, quit wasting ingredients!”

Enter Veil, happily volunteering as disposal crew.

“I smelled new food and rushed over, but Platy at the stove is a rare sight. And now, I’m the trash‑plate tester. My timing stinks.”

Even so, she polishes off another plate labeled in ketchup “Fryy Rice.”

“Tastes fine to me. It’s just messy, right? Call it done.”

“No! I’m a mother! For Junior, for Norito, and someday Shotaro, I demand a flawlessly perfect omurice! No compromise!!”

“‘Flawlessly’ and ‘perfect’ mean the same thing, y’know.”

Her maternal instinct ignites.

She’ll risk life and limb to serve the best.

Beside her, I keep experimenting with the extra ingredients.

This time I flop a soft omelet right onto plated chicken rice.

Slash it down the middle and a runny egg floods out.

Fluffy‑runny omurice, complete!

“Uwaaaaaah! That was cool! It looks wild, and that gooey egg on rice is mouthwateringgggg!”

Next, I cook a paper‑thin crêpe of egg, grab both ends with chopsticks, twirl it into a spiral, and set it on the rice.

Dress omurice, extra fancy!!!

“Heyyy! Don’t jump to advanced class before I clear the basics!!!”

Platy protests, teary‑eyed.

She fumbles; an eggshell drops in the bowl.

“Nooo! Another failureeeeeeee!”

Just fish out the shell...

“Darn it, ruined again! That’s my life! This omurice is my life! I try everything, finish nothing! Nobody loves me…!!!”

Uh‑oh, she’s curled up under the table.

Time to raise that self‑esteem.

Like runny egg hugging chicken rice, she needs a warm embrace.

“Mommyyy, yummy.”

“Nom‑nommmm.”

Praise from our sons, Junior and Norito, munching happily on Failure #1 and #2.

“Whaaa?! Stop, you two! You deserve something perfect-”

“It’s made with love and it’s yummyyy.”

Exactly. It’s not flawless form that matters, but the heart wanting to feed someone tasty food.

The kids feel their mom’s love.

And that’s why they can polish off her omurice.

Besides, a little lopsided never hurt the flavor.

“Junior, Norito…! Waaaah!!!”

Platy hugs them tight, overwhelmed by how much they mean to her.

Someday, they’ll remember this ketchup‑tang as the flavor of home.

A taste of home differs for everyone.

That’s the flavor of each person’s journey.

“But we still have a mountain of failed omurice left…!”

“Looks like we’re throwing an omurice party for everyone.”

Sounds like we’ll be on an omurice diet for a while.