crêpes + cinnamon sugar peaches

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Crêpes evoke Parisian cafes and French accents, but I first learned how to cook the French pancakes in an Italian middle school.

My family moved to Florence when I was going into 6th grade and my brother and I both enrolled in Italian public schools. My middle school building was covered in graffiti and the maps in our classrooms still included the USSR. I remember walking in on the first day, tearfully departing from my dad and sticking out like a sore thumb. Soon, though, the intimidating building became more familiar and comfortable.

I’m sure at the urging of my mom, I took an after school cooking class one semester to improve my language skills and make friends. We met in the school’s dusty basement, cluttered with boxes and boxes of records, tests, and other documents that probably should not have been tossed in a basement. At the back of the room, a small, rudimentary kitchen provided the space for our culinary adventures.

We learned all the staples of the Italian diet, from pasta dough to margherita pizzas. Our teacher taught from her own experience, often forsaking written recipes. I did my best to follow along but my Italian cooking vocabulary was rusty, at best. When the class ended, I did not have much to show for it, except for one dish: crêpes.

I immediately wrote down what I remembered doing in class that day and began tinkering with the recipe, determined to translate the fluid movements of my teacher into a structured recipe I could copy. Unlike their cousin, the pancake, crêpes are almost paper-thin and are eaten folded up, like a delicate sandwich. It can seem like an intimidating dish, but I’ve found it to actually be simple and quick, an easy feather in your culinary cap.

For the past seven years, I’ve been following my middle school recipe but have learned how to feel out the best crêpes. Sometimes, more milk is necessary. Often, I add extra flour, a dash of cinnamon, or a sprinkle of garlic. crêpes are endlessly versatile and will be a welcoming friend for any meal, any season, or any appetite.

Last summer, I returned to Italy for the first time since we left. I spent ten weeks in Florence, living by myself and working for a local English-speaking news magazine. Toward the end of the summer, when my budget was low and groceries were not a priority, I discovered I had all I needed: one egg, some flour, a little bit of milk, and a smidge of butter. Plus one peach. I would come home from work, wait for the July heat to simmer away in the evening, and eat crêpes with fresh peaches and a jar of Nutella in hand’s reach.

This is my twist on that beloved summer recipe. When I think of crêpes, I’m taken back to the hills of Tuscany and sweet summer evenings. While I opted for a sweet crepe in this recipe, the options are endless. Add different fruits, experiment with adding cheeses, smooth pesto on top, toss in all kinds of spices. This recipe is the most basic crêpe recipe you will probably find, the perfect blank canvas for your cooking whimsy.

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Cook time is 20 minutes. Makes 5 crêpes. Cinnamon sugar baked peaches adapted from I Heart Naptime

Ingredients

For the crêpes:

1/2 cup flour

1/3 cup milk

one egg

1 1/2 tablespoons butter

For the peaches:

2 peaches

2 tablespoons brown sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 tablespoon butter

Instructions 

For the crêpes:

1. Mix the flour and milk until there are no lumps and the consistency is on the runny side. When you pour the mixture, it should pour easily and quickly.

2. Next, whisk in an egg until it’s completely blended with the flour and milk mixture.

3. Finally, soften butter in the microwave before mixing it in with the other ingredients.

4. If you want to add any spices, do so now. For savory crêpes, I like to add a pinch of salt or garlic. With sweet crêpes, try cinnamon, a splash of vanilla, or a sprinkle of sugar.

5. Keep the stove on medium to low heat. Crepes cook quickly, so keep everything close to the stove so you can easily transfer food from the stove to a plate. If you don’t have a crepe pan, any large pan will do.

6. Pour medium amounts of batter into the pan for each crêpe. If you don’t have any tools for spreading out the batter, take the pan off the stove and move it up and down until the batter has spread out, covering as much surface as possible.

7. Let it cook for several seconds until the batter darkens and starts to bubble. Flip it over, let it cook for a few more seconds, then slide it onto a plate. 

For the peaches:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Ideally, let the peaches bake while you cook the crepes on the stove.

2. Slice your peaches into large slices.

3. Lay them out on a cookie sheet or in an oven-safe dish. Place a small pat of butter on each slice.

4. Mix the brown sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl then sprinkle the mixture generously on each peach.

5. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes.

I highly recommend topping off the dish with a healthy amount of Nutella drizzled on top. Originally published on courtneyrunn.wordpress.com

School Pasta

The Story

There isn’t a scene quite like recess at an elementary school. Hundreds of kids storm out of the classroom, energized and eager for action. For many children, this is the best part of the day. I too remember elementary school lunch as a great time in my life, but for reasons probably different than my peers. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being able to run around like a wild hyena for 30 minutes, but for reasons I only now understand, what I loved more was getting to eat.

To grasp why I enjoyed eating so much at school, I need to give you a little background on my family. My mother lived in Italy for 10 years after college, a time she constantly talks about as some of her favorite moments in life. This time gave her the opportunity to learn the nuances of Italian cooking that only an Italian would understand. As a result, my siblings and I grew up in a household where Italian cuisine was served for dinner at least 3 times a week. The uniqueness of my childhood diet only began there. I was also raised a vegetarian so the other 4 dinners of the week usually went against the grain as well.

Naturally, school was the first place I realized how distinguished my childhood food experience was from my friends. Rather than having to eat the cafeteria food each day like friends, my unique diet required me to bring a packed lunch to school most days. The meal I remember the most was the pasta dish below that my twin sister and I called School Pasta. We loved it so much we would eat the leftovers as breakfast in the morning. However, when I got to school, all of my friends were irked by our “gross vegetable pasta.” During the time, I couldn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand why my friends were different than me and why they didn’t eat what I did at school. Although I loved my lunches, I resented their isolation.

As I look back and reflect on this time today, though, it is all crystal clear. I had different lunches than my friends because I grew up in an incredibly unique household compared to them. Although this made me uncomfortable at the time, in hindsight, I wouldn’t want my elementary lunches any other way. Meals like School Pasta taught me that I am unique with a distinct culture and heritage. This helped me realize that our own differences are not something to resent, but something to appreciate, because in the end, we wouldn’t be ourselves without them.

The Recipe

Ingredients

1 box of Fusilli Pasta

1 Tablespoon of Small Capers

1 Small finely chopped Onion

½ Stick of Butter (+ more if needed)

½ cup of pitted olives

Grated Parmesan Cheese

Steps

  1. Fill a large pot with water and two tablespoons of course salt.
  2. Bring water to boil.
  3. Chop the onion finely and cut the olives in half.
  4. Retrieve a large frying pan.
  5. Melt butter.
  6. Add capers, chopped onions, capers, and olives
  7. Sauté until the onions are golden.
  8. Turn off frying pan.
  9. Cook Pasta per box directions.
  10. Drain Pasta.
  11. Turn frying pan back on.
  12. Add drained pasta to frying pan.
  13. Mix thoroughly, add more butter if needed
  14. Serve with grated parmesan cheese.

Lentils, for Molly

This started out as what I thought would be a relatively simple task, to articulate in writing a dish that I now cook from memory. What it turned into, perhaps not surprisingly, was a spiral through cookbooks, grocery stores, and the depths of the internet in search of the elusive origin of truth. Clearly lentils are much more complicated than I had imagined. So the recipe below is not, in fact, using the beluga lentils we had at Laundrette, but something different.

If you are interested in cooking something like we ate that afternoon this summer, I will direct your attention to this recipe.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this other one, that I find most comforting on days when I need sustenance. Ana has endorsed it as a “diez” on the scale of lentils, and as a Spaniard she is expertly qualified to evaluate such dishes.

Cooking time

About 2 hours start to finish, with about half of that requiring your active attention

Serving Size

4 for dinner, 1 person lunch for the week, or 22 undergraduate rhetoric students as a taste test.

Special Equipment

A heavy-bottomed pot. This is important because for a slow-cooking dish like this you want the heat to be evenly distributed along the whole surface of your pot, without hot spots where the beans will burn or dry out.

How to make it

In your chosen pot, start to heat up on medium low

2 T           pork fat, OR       3-4 oz.   bacon[1]

Add to the pot and cook until translucent, stirring regularly, the following vegetables. All of these should be minced very fine, cut into pieces that are smaller than the size of uncooked lentils. This has the effect of blending all of the flavors together into a harmonious balance where individual aspects of the ingredients are subsumed in the mixture of the three.

  •   1 ¼ c      onion
  •   ½ c         carrots
  •   ½ c         celery

Add in and cook for 2 min.

  •   2              cloves of garlic, peeled and minced very fine
  •                   bay leaf
  •  ½ t          Dried thyme
  •  ½ t          dried oregano

Add in and stir. [2]

  • ¼ c          sherry
  • 1 t             pimentón

Add in, bring to a boil, then reduce heat to very low

  • 1 c            Lentilles du Puy [3]
  • 1 T            parsley leaves, minced fine
  • 3 c            chicken broth or water, as available

Cook with the lid on for about 90 minutes, tasting periodically to see when the beans have become tender and monitoring the amount of liquid (add more if it sinks below the level of the lentils). When things taste good, turn off the heat and remove the bay leaf.

Stir in the vinegar and salt to taste, adding more pimentón if you desire (I like to add another teaspoon at least). Sprinkle with extra fresh parsley and olive oil just before serving.

  •   1 t            sherry vinegar or cider vinegar
  •                   salt
  •  1 T           good quality olive oil

 

Variations

If you’re feeling extra fancy, put a dollop of whole-milk yogurt or crème fraiche on top when you serve it as well.

Makes a full meal if you add in a grain or starch. Some options

  •  1 c           potatoes (add after 30 min of cooking the lentils)
  • ¾ c         rice + 1 ½ c water (add at the same time as the lentils)
  • ½ c         pearled barley + 1 ½ c water (add at the same time as the lentils)

[1] Cooking animal products on low heat to extract the fat is a technique called rendering. It’s common for the beginning of stews and soups, as well as braised dishes.

[2] Adding a liquid, particularly one with acid or alcohol, to a pot that has had things browned in it is called deglazing. This isn’t always necessary, if you are paying careful attention to your pot and don’t let it get too dry, but sometimes your attention wanes and you end up with some fond, or browned bits that are the result of the Maillard reaction: when starches and proteins convert into tastiness under heat. Sometimes I end up with fond when cooking lentils, sometimes not! In either case, the sherry tastes nice.

[3] Lentilles de Puy are a domain-controlled food product, meaning that according to international law, ingredients labeled as such must originate in the French region of Puy. They are firmer and smaller than other kinds of French, German, and Spanish lentils, and really nothing at all like the flaky red or slightly slimy white Indian lentils. Most Austin grocery stores carry them; Whole Foods and Central Market have them in the bulk section.

Download the PDF here: Lentils, for Molly