I don't know about you, but I have a really hard time following a recipe. Maybe it's my background in improv theatre, maybe my narcissistic disdain for authority, perhaps my unwavering faith in my own good taste, but whatever the reason--it's rare for me to produce something exactly as I've read it. Don't get me wrong; I spend long delightful hours every week reading cookbooks, and letting the innovative pairings, photographs and descriptions inspire my own tastes. I love food. I love reading about, thinking about it, and most of all, eating it. I think about what I'm going to eat for dinner, all day long.
The nicest thing about working full time with food is that you get to think full time about food. Every morning, I see the same friendly vendors' faces. Like Pete, the local honey man, who's known me since I was sixteen. (He's one of about three people who can still get away with calling me Mary Kate.) Or Tim, the bread guy, who's got a boy just a little older than my own. I
know why this cheese won the national title, or why you shouldn't bother with this wine or that one. It may not keep me in diamonds, but my work certainly does keep me in touch with what I'm eating. And so. Here's my 'What's for dinner?' secret. I stand in the produce section for a moment. I think about recipes I've read, or ingredients I particularly crave. Then I buy whatever strikes my fancy. That's all there is to it. We start with the vegetables. And dinner? It just sort of invents itself.
Today, May 21, 2011, was a special day because it was one of approximately three days of the year when morels are readily available. I'm sure it's partially because they're so elusive/extravagant, but gosh, do I ever love morels. Throw in a bunch of chard, a leek, a jar of cream and a bottle of wine? Surely
something magical will be the result.
All day long I thought about what I was going to do with those dear little mushrooms. Last year I made wild little tarts. The year before? Pasta. This year, I did the following.
Graham crepes with creamed chard and sautéed morels
(Crepes scare people. People are silly.)
For the crepes:
Take a cup of flour. Any flour you want. I used half stone ground graham flour and half whole wheat pastry flour. Because that's what I like/have. Beat two eggs into half a cup of cream (or milk), and add a half a cup of water. Mix in the flour, and whisk the dickens out of it. Season as desired, and then stir in two tablespoons melted butter. Let that sit for a minute while you prepare your pan.
Now, if you're me, you have a well-seasoned and loved crepe pan in your arsenal, eager to be thrown into the fire. If you are
not me, apologize profusely to your misunderstood omelet pan/small skillet and commence calling it your crepe pan. Brush it well with butter, and heat to a steady medium/high heat.
Pour enough batter into the pan to just coat the bottom, swirling the pan to evenly distribute the batter. Let it cook a minute or so, or until the edges are beginning to curl and brown. Carefully, with a spatula or fork, flip the crepe completely over and allow the second side a minute. Repeat until the batter is gone. (makes 6-8 crepes)
Seriously. It's just pancakes.
To fill my crepes, I turned to an old standby of mine, creamed chard. Apparently, this is an exceptionally unfashionable food, the stuff of nursing homes and cafeterias. Well, sign me up. Creamed chard is both nutritious and delicious, well-loved by mamas and boychildren alike.
to make:
a bunch of chard
a bit of butter
garlic
nutmeg
pepper
1/2 c heavy cream
Melt the butter, and sauté a clove or two of garlic. Add the chard, and cook until wilted. Stir in the cream, nutmeg and pepper to taste. (I realize nutmeg sounds a little bit crazy. Do me a favor, try it once? I'm totally right.) Cook over low heat until thickened.
(Creamed chard is great over pasta, or as a side dish, or as cold leftovers in the middle of the night. It's the kind of comfort food I wish I remembered from my childhood. Simple, nourishing and thoroughly uncomplicated.)
Now for the morels.
As you may or may not know, morels are not cheap. These aren't white button mushrooms we're dealing with, or even shiitakes. These are something else. Something special. I probably had an eighth of a pound, and it was the best money I've spent in weeks.
1 T butter
1 leek
6-8 fresh morels (I do like dried ones, but they aren't really interchangeable)
a splash of a drinkable white wine
heavy cream
salt/pepper
Chop the whites of your leek and gently cook in butter until soft. Pour in enough wine to just cover, and simmer while you clean and coarsely chop the morels. (The larger you leave them, the better the texture.) Add the mushrooms. Cook briefly, until they begin to release their liquid into the sauce. Add the cream, and simmer slowly until thickened. Season as desired.
To assemble, fill the warm crepes with a generous portion of chard, and roll gently. Spoon the morel cream sauce over the crepes. (You can add cheese if you wish, either a grating of something sharp on top, or perhaps a soft, pungent sliver or two inside. I really don't think it needs it, but I've been wrong before.)
Adults will love this. And you by extension.
So will these guys.
xoxo,
Mary Catherine
1 c unbleached flour
I don't know about you, but I have a really hard time following a recipe. Maybe it's my background in improv theatre, maybe my narcissistic disdain for authority, perhaps my unwavering faith in my own good taste, but whatever the reason--it's rare for me to produce something exactly as I've read it. Don't get me wrong; I spend long delightful hours every week reading cookbooks, and letting the innovative pairings, photographs and descriptions inspire my own tastes. I love food. I love reading about, thinking about it, and most of all, eating it. I think about what I'm going to eat for dinner, all day long.
Now, if you're me, you have a well-seasoned and loved crepe pan in your arsenal, eager to be thrown into the fire. If you are not me, apologize profusely to your misunderstood omelet pan/small skillet and commence calling it your crepe pan. Brush it well with butter, and heat to a steady medium/high heat. 
