Beautiful musings of flora and fare.
I fully admit I spoil my kids rotten when it comes to food. I’m often caught making fresh cut fries an hour before bedtime or whipping up cupcakes for breakfast. My husband and I always joke that we are our kids slaves. In a sense I suppose we are. Google’s definition of slave; “a person who is the legal property of another and is forced to obey them” and “work excessively hard”. I’d have to say we are definitely slaves to our kids in that case.
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My mother in law would probably pucker her lips till they turned white and wrinkled much like her backside exit if I ever told her what I did to the base of her crêpe recipe. I asianized it.
For the old school Belgian or Frenchie, crêpes are a kind of sacred dish. My mother in law has never deviated from the simple recipe of just flour, eggs, milk, sugar. She normally serves it with some cassonade (brown sugar), nutella or some jam on the table. I remember once serving crêpes for lunch with sour cream, bacon and chives…and yup the puckered backside lips appeared. “Quelle horreur” she exclaimed. Awww…. Always love her candour! She skipped the bacon and cheese and went straight to the cupboards to grab the brown sugar. She refused to even try! Old school and I forgot to mention, stubborn.
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