Crepes, Anyone?

Food is our common ground, a universal experience.                          ~ James Beard

For the last year or so I’ve been complaining to my friend Cécile (my partner in crime in all things chocolate) that I can’t make good crepes. Now this isn’t from lack of trying.  I’ve gone through dozens of eggs, bags of flour, and too many recipes, secrets and techniques to count: use a stainless steel bowl, put the bowl in the freezer, blend the mixture, don’t blend the mixture, wait until the bubbles have settled, refrigerate, don’t use a non-stick pan and butter , use a non-stick pan, etc. etc. etc.  I just couldn’t figure out what my problem was.

So every now and again I’d give Cécile a play by play account of my failure as I was eating a mockingly paper-thin crepe.  And then there were other times I’d just give her a “subtle hint” like, Hey, you’re from France; teach me how to make the real thing.  Cécile, being Cécile, suggested that we have a “crepe tutorial” not conducted by her, but by her boyfriend Fabian. After all, he’s the master. After months of anticipation we had a crepe tutorial slash party, not just for us, but for their friends as well.  No pressure, just a bunch of French and Spanish people eating my experiment. Let’s just say they were good sports, each offering up family tips.

So last weekend, armed with my new found confidence, I decided to make crepes.  It didn’t go exactly as planned.  In fact, it was kind of disastrous.  I followed Fabian’s “recipe” which consisted of very loose measurements and approximations.  Keeping in mind that the French say “the first one is for the dog”, I kept my expectations low. The first crepe was pale, but it was thinner than any other I had ever made. Prematurely, I thought I succeeded.  Wrong.  It went from not bad to worse.  All of my crepes went to the dog pound, never mind to the dog!  But as I was making one bad crepe after another, I kept thinking of language; a far jump, right?

Well, it hasn’t escaped my attention that in roughly 6 weeks I’ll throw myself into a totally Spanish speaking world.  My first foray into learning a second language wasn’t exactly the best experience.  I was confused, frustrated and often discouraged.  I couldn’t really grasp the “why” of it.  I over-thought things all of the time.  In short, it was incredibly uncomfortable.  I was hard on myself and thought that I failed on so many levels.  By the way, all of those struggles actually led me on a journey to become an ESL teacher, but that’s another story for another time.

What I realized was my crepe disaster wasn’t a disaster after all , but a reminder (one that I always give to my students) to have the courage to make mistakes, to keep a sense of humor  and most of all, never give up.  And as Juan ate my overly brown crepe/pancake I just thought, “It’s ok, he’s not going to die and somewhere in there is the essence of a crepe”.  And just like my awkward Spanish won’t be perfect, there will be the essence of communication.  I will be misunderstood and people will misunderstand me, but hey, I’ll be trying and hopefully I’ll be laughing along the way.

Buen provecho!

The secrets to success.

One Thing Off My List……

Change in all things is sweet. ~ Aristotle

As our departure date comes into focus I’m finding a need/desire to do/eat the things I just never bothered to do before now.  Perhaps it’s because I figure it’ll be a long time before I ever return to this part of Canada.  I’ve lived in Quebec for 3 years now and my friend France was shocked, and or appalled, that I’ve never tried Sugar pie or a Beaver’s tail, although she tells me that Beaver tails aren’t really a French thing.

Anyway, France and her hubby invited us for Thanksgiving dinner last night. It’s strange because none of us really celebrate this holiday, but it was the perfect opportunity to have turkey with all the fixings, and, you guessed it, SUGAR PIE!!

How can I describe Sugar pie? It’s kind of like a cross between a butter tart and pecan pie without the raisins or nuts. France’s pie met three criteria: a golden pie crust, caramelized sugary goodness on top, and the sweet factor.

This pie lived up to the hype.  It was delicious, but I have to say, once a year would be sufficient for me.  Thanks France, for checking one thing off of my list.

France’s Sugar Pie