Crêpes

I prefer thin French pancakes to the more doughy American kind, so I often make a batch of crêpe batter for a Sunday breakfast and have plenty left over to whip up a rolled savory crêpe filled with some leftover that needs dressing up, or a sweet version enrobing some fruit or berries. For breakfast, I slather a warm crêpe with yogurt—preferably Greek-style, because it’s less runny—put another crêpe on top and more yogurt, and leave the final layer bare to catch the warm maple syrup I pour over it. A few berries scattered around complete the picture I remember how James Beard would teach the making and baking of crêpes and pancakes in his opening class for beginners. He liked the students to observe what happened when the batter—some with baking powder, as in American pancakes; some not, as in French crêpes—hit the hot surface of the pan and baked: one rising perceptibly, the other hardly at all but acquiring a crisper tan. And he would prowl around among the students, encouraging them to use their fingers to turn the crêpe and get the feel of the texture. The “nervous Nellies,” as Julia Child always called them, held back, but the intrepid relished the quick finger-flip, and you could tell that they were the ones who were really going to enjoy cooking.