When I first started dating the F.C.  the adorable French guy I met at a party, I was in charge in the cooking.  For almost two months we enjoyed many breakfasts and dinners together, all without incident. He loved my cooking, I loved his adorable French accent. Sunday brunch was our favourite. Sleeping in late.  Lingering over a long meal.  Sipping stovetop espresso while surfing the internet on our his and her Macs.   Toutes etaitent parfait!

 

Then one Sunday morning the unexpected happens.  The French cock tells me he wants to make crepes for brunch.

 

I instantly go into shock.  My face twitches, eyebrows furrow, lips purse (believe me, it’s not my most attractive look).   “Are you sure you know how to make them?”  I ask.

 

“Yes I’m sure.” the F.C. smiles teasingly. ” Why? Don’t you trust me?”

 

“Of course I trust you,” I squawk, my pitch so high I’m surprised my martini glass collection doesn’t shatter.  The truth is,  the culinary control freak in me  imagined  a big bowl of wet unworkable goop.  And buttermilk costs money. So does organic flour. And eggs.   I mean, it’s a recession dammit, and I’m a screenwriter in between gigs with a mortgage.

 

And it’s not just the pantry carnage I’m worrying out. I was looking forward to wolfing down a heaping pile of my owntried and true  Strawberry Buttermilk Pancakes.  I had everything I needed. I was craving them. But suddenly the French cock wants to cook.

 

How could this be happening? What I liked about the French cock was how little he cared about assuming a domestic role.  I cook for cock. Cock doesn’t cook for me!!!

 

It’ll be fine, I reasoned with myself.  They’re  just crepes for god’s sake. The French practically invented them.  But as he cooks, the culinary control freak in me won’t rest. I hover over him, scrutinizing every measurement and questioning his recipe choice (which was in French, so I couldn’t follow).

 

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Fed up with my pestering, he drops the whisk and blurts out,  “It’s true! You don’t trust me!!!” He steps away from the mixing bowl, arms folded; the whisk rolls off the table on the floor with a clang.

 

You can win a man’s heart in the kitchen but you can also lose it there.  What could I do? Call 911? (Operator: What is the nature of your emergency?  Culinary Control Freak: Kitchen accident.  I just cut off my boyfriend balls! Help! )

 

Sexily, I drape my arms around his waist, encouraging him to continue. A kiss on the neck. A touch on the thigh.  I figure if  I can’t re-inflate his ego, maybe I could at least work on his other member.

 

A few carresses later, the French cock is ready to continue his crepe recipe and when all’s poured, flipped, rolled and served, the crepes were… pretty good! Not great, but with tremendous potential. They were also a dish I had shied away from (like new love, crepes are delicate, I’m afraid of breaking of them.)

 

The F.C. deals with a deformed crepe.

The F.C. deals with a deformed crepe.

 

 

Now we enjoy French Crepes “Cesar” all the time. We have them savory and sweet. Sprinkled with lemon and sugar or doused in maple syrup. Even better, I can see the pride on my French cock’s face as he brandishes the frying pan, flipping his crepes. And I applaud him,  the quiet loving girlfriend who knows how to take a backseat and let her man shine.

 

(But I still really dig my Strawberry Buttermilk Pancakes.)

 

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Almost good enough to end a relationship over.

 

 

 

The 8 Inch Banana Vs The Strawberry Buttermilk Pancakes

 

Dry Ingredients

 

One cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt

 

Wet Ingredients

One egg
3 cups buttermilk
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
canola oil (for frying)

 

Toppings

 

Sliced strawberries or bananas
Syrup
Riccotta cheese

 

Instructions
1. In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients, mixing them well.
2. In a medium bowl, beat the egg lightly, and add the buttermilk and vanilla, mixing well.
3. When you’re ready to cook the pancakes, lightly oil your frying pan with canola oil, coating surface well, heating over medium. Then make a well in the dry ingredients, and pour in the wet ingredients, mixing just enough to moisten. Do not overmix.
4. On the heated frying pan, pour sufficent batter to make three small (3-inch to 3, 5 inch diameter) pancakes. Pour slowly so the batter doesn’t run off. (At this stage, I add a few sliced bananas or strawberries on top so they are “inside” the pancake, and warm, when served. It’s my signature move –versus laying the fruit on top only. You can also use blueberries, again, adding the fruit while the pancake is in the pan, NOT the batter, which will turn blue otherwise.)
As the pancakes start to bubble, and/or feel sturdy enough under your spatula, flip them over and lightly brown them on the other side. Repeat the process, adding more canola oil each time, until you have the required number. You can keep the cooked pancakes warm in the oven as you cook or serve immediately. Serve with the non-fruited side up (it looks prettier, as the fruit tends to stick just a little.)
5. Garnish with syrup, or tablespoon of riccota cheese and additional sliced strawberries and bananas.

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