Monthly Archives: December 2014
Had trouble getting to sleep, last night. Decided to play some ukulele and have a beer.
Wife woke me up, bless her, curled on the floor in front of a heat register in my skivvies and Tshirt, next to a ukulele with clapped out strings, a half-finished pint, and one sealed DVD featuring SHARKNADO 2: THE SECOND ONE. Guess I managed to get some shut eye.
And my wife didn’t bat an eye. Not sure if this says more about me or her…
– Two eggs, a good pinch of salt, and couple grinds of black pepper whisked together with a fork.
– 8″ iron skillet over medium-high before foaming in a pat of butter.
– Stir eggs into the skillet with a fork and keep stirring them until mostly gelled.
– Off heat to sprinkle with crumbled feta and fold.
– Plate set in top and pan flipped to avoid acrobatics.
– Yeah, I got a hint of tan on one end, angering the Gods of Haute Cuisine who will surely smite me and curse my bloodline. Don’t care, it was yummy.
Crock of hot glühwein on the counter, tourtière on the table with a bacon grease/flour/butter/homemade pork stock gravy kicked up with some Pickapeppa, gently braised green beans/shredded cabbage/onion, garlic mashed potato with freshly snipped chives, and my sister’s homemade biscotti with after-dinner coffee. My parents and uncle over for it all.
And, now, I am retired to the den with the last of the mulled wine to play Lollipop Chainsaw. In my pyjamas with a Spyderco clipped AIWB. And a Glock next to the moon chair.
No idea what my wife has ever seen in me…
– 200 ml (titch over two cups, hell, use a couple small wine glasses) milk
– Three eggs
Whisk together with a fork/whisk/chopsticks/whatever
Then mix in:
– One or two big eatin’ spoons of sugar and half a spoon of salt.
And then work in:
– Something resembling a cup and a half of flour.
Once smoothish, mix in:
– One or two spoons of oil.
Then ladle thinly into a small skillet gently preheated over low-medium-low heat (iron, carbon steel, or non-stick, whatever floats your boat) and swirl gently to coat the pan. Flip once the top is set enough to handle it. Out of the pan when done to your liking. I like to kiss the skillet with a stick of butter between each custardy flatbread or two. Optional to also rub a cut apple on the pan to sweeten things up.
Serve with whatever you want to smear, drizzle, sprinkle, or stack on top. At any time of day. With tea hot or cold. Or coffee. Oah hahd likkah. Or beer. Maybe even wine, I guess.
Congratulations, you have made a batch of crêpes. Food snobs may argue precise proportions, thickness, whatever, but you have made crêpes. Or call them blini like many Russians do to annoy the true believers that a blin can only be made with fermented rye batter or whatever the hell. It doesn’t matter because the little nibbly things are delicious, easy to make, versatile, and keep handy all day in a covered dish to fold up a quick snack on the way by on a busy day.