Super Natural Every Day (8 page)
Read Super Natural Every Day Online
Authors: Heidi Swanson
 | This simple batter makes a family-sized batch of rustic rye-flour crepes, which I make quite frequently. A word of advice: aim for a smooth, lump-free batter and (really) resist the urge to skip the straining step. A mesh sieve is the best tool for the job—don’t even try cheesecloth (it makes a mess) and making the batter in a blender doesn’t yield the same results. |
I’ve tested many different approaches to crepes, and broadly speaking, 100 per cent wholegrain flour blends aren’t as good as a mixture of a wholegrain flour and plain flour. The former tends to make crepes that are too heavy and flabby, and that take too long to cook, which results in steamed crepes. This particular recipe works well in a pan or with a tabletop crepe maker. You can pre-cook crepes ahead of time if you like. Stack the crepes between trays of baking paper, and then reheat in a lightly buttered frying pan and fill with toppings when you are ready to eat. |
85 g rye flour
140 g unbleached plain flour
½ teaspoon fine sea salt
3 large eggs
475 ml water, plus more if needed
Unsalted butter for cooking
Fillings (see below)
To make the crepe batter, combine the flours and salt in a bowl. Use a fork to stir in the eggs until the texture becomes raggedy. Gradually stir in the water. The batter may seem a bit thin, but it will thicken as it rests. Remove the lumps from the batter by pushing and smushing all the batter through a not-too-fine mesh sieve using a wooden spoon or rigid spatula. Rest the batter at room temperature for at least 30 minutes, then stir again before using. It should have the consistency of smooth double (thick) cream. If you need to thin with more water, do so a few tablespoons at a time.
To cook the crepes, heat a 20 cm non-stick or wellseasoned frying pan over medium heat. Rub with a touch of butter and pour just enough batter into the pan to provide a thin coating; in a 20 cm pan, this means about 60 ml. As you pour, rotate the pan so the batter runs to cover the entire base. If you feel compelled to patch holes, sparingly add dabs of extra batter, but work quickly and try to keep the crepe thin. Cook for a few minutes until the crepe is browned, then flip with a spatula and brown the second side before adding your desired fillings. Re-butter the pan every couple of crepes.
If your batter isn’t spreading easily over the pan, it is perfectly fine to thin it with more water. Then try again. It takes a bit of practice. Alternatively, you can use a crepe maker like the one I have, which is a lot of fun, and you can make much larger crepes. Any unused batter keeps well in the refrigerator for a few days.
MAKES ABOUT 12 CREPES
As far as fillings go, the possibilities are endless. My advice? Set up a selection of toppings and resist the urge to overfill. I tend to keep things simple with a sprinkling of grated, aged Gruyère, or whatever cooked seasonal vegetables I have on hand. Thin slices of pan-fried potatoes and a generous slather of pesto or a dash of hot sauce work particularly well. Other times, I’ll add a beaten egg to the pan and throw a cooked crepe down on top of it. Once the egg is cooked, flip, sprinkle with a bit of cheese, fold in half, and enjoy. On the sweet side, these crepes like berries, a bit of shaved chocolate, or soft brown sugar sprinkled on top and cooked until warmed through or melted.
SEASONAL PRODUCE, SHALLOTS, GOAT’S CHEESE
| Frittatas. For years I started them on the stovetop, then finished them in a hot oven—a perfectly acceptable approach. But it wasn’t until I began to finish my frittatas under the grill that they became exceptional. The eggs puff up and stay light and the toppings brown and crisp perfectly, while the frittata base escapes scorching. An added bonus is this approach takes less time. |
A 30 cm cast-iron frying pan is my preferred pan for frittatas, but any ovenproof pan will do. For a smaller crowd, use the same technique but halve the amount of eggs, cheese, and vegetables. |
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil or melted clarified
butter
, plus more for drizzing
2 small onions, chopped
225 g chat (baby) potatoes, unpeeled, sliced into paper-thin rounds 2 shallots (eschalots), chopped
Fine sea salt
225 g seasonal vegetables, such as zucchini (courgette), broccoli, or asparagus, cut into 1 cm pieces
10 large eggs, well beaten
30 g goat’s or feta cheese, crumbled
Small bunch of chives, snipped
Heat the oil in a heavy-based ovenproof 30 cm frying pan over medium–high heat. Stir in the onions, potatoes, half of the shallots, and two big pinches of salt. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are just cooked through, about 5 minutes. Stir in the vegetables and cook for another minute or two, until they soften up a bit. Set aside half of this mixture on a plate.
Whisk ½ teaspoon salt into the eggs, and pour the eggs into the frying pan. Cook over medium–low heat until the eggs are just set and there isn’t a lot of liquid in the pan, about 5 minutes. To facilitate this, run a spatula underneath the perimeter of the frittata and tilt the pan so the uncooked eggs run to the underside. The key is to avoid browning on the base. Top with the reserved vegetable mixture and sprinkle with the cheese and the remaining shallot.
Place under a grill (a low setting will give you more control, if you have that option) for a couple of minutes, or just until the top of the frittata is puffed up and set. Resist the urge to walk away—the frittata can go from perfect to burned in just a few seconds. Remove from the grill and allow to sit for a minute or two. Sprinkle with the chives, drizzle with a bit of olive oil, and serve warm or at room temperature, right out of the pan.
SERVES 8
lunch
I MAKE LUNCH FOR MYSELF MOST DAYS.
Sometimes I cook from scratch, other times I compile something from the leftovers of previous meals. Lunch steadies me for the rest of the day and allows me a bit of time to recharge, relax, enjoy myself, and, at times, reflect. It’s my opinion that a good lunch doesn’t need to be a fancy affair, but it should make an attempt at being proper. Meaning, I like to stop everything and set my sights on enjoying a lunch that’s flavourful, nutritious, and thoughtfully prepared.
I most like to eat lunch in places where there is fresh air—near open windows, on rooftops, in backyards, and on porches. Places where you can hear birds chirp or watch clouds swim across the sky. I like to eat lunch alone. I like to eat lunch with friends. I like to eat lunch with my sister, or with Wayne. Quiet lunches are nice and so are chatty lunches and the lunches that fall somewhere in between.
The beach isn’t far from here, and I like to eat lunch there on warm days and cold, with waves crashing straight ahead, pelicans diving deep and putting on a show. Or at one of the nearby parks, picnic blanket unfurled, reclining back into one of San Francisco’s sloping greens.
I like to eat lunch perched high on one of the stools in my kitchen, or on nice days, barefoot on the back deck, sitting in the old wooden chair that looks out toward the park. Or on the stairs behind Coit Tower, the parrots chattering to each other in the trees and San Francisco at my feet. Sometimes I’m stuck inside, and that’s okay, too. Actually, I’ve found that no matter where I am, or what I’m in the middle of, I can usually find a patch of good light with an interesting view in which to sit down and enjoy a homemade lunch—even if it’s reheated soup from last night’s dinner.