One of the ceremonies at the girls' party was that each unmarried girl had to make a crêpe in the great big pan over the open fire, tossing it without fork or knife to help her, and turning it so it landed neatly on its other side. Not an easy thing to do without considerable practice. But according to the superstition, unless you could do it, you would never—mais jamais—get yourself a husband. What man would marry a girl who couldn't make a perfect crêpe? Grand'mère would mix up a big bowl of batter and start off the evening's fun by making the first crêpe, skillfully tilting the pan to let the batter run thin and even right to the edge. Then just when it had set, a quick twist of her wrist and up would go the pancake to come down again, flat and perfect, in the center of the big pan.
Now, when I was about eight, my youngest and favorite aunt, Alexandrine, was sixteen and beginning to see the boys in a new light. She was a good little cook, like all the Alajoinine girls, for Grand'mère taught her daughters well. So, the first year I was allowed up for the Carnaval parties I had no fear that her crêpe would not be tossed to perfection. Finally her turn came. she ladled the batter into the hot pan and gave the proper tilting to let it run to the edges, it not being far, of course, to make a small cake. All of Grand'mère's little mannerisms were in her hands, quite unconsciously, I'm sure. Carefully, so very carefully, she maneuvered the pan to make sure the crêpe was set and sticking to the pan. Then with a sudden jerk she tossed it. The pancake went up and came down—but only half in the pan, the rest falling over the side into the fire. I, the only one who seemed to take it seriously, almost burst into tears. I couldn't understand their being so lighthearted, tante Alexandrine included. Their teasing, “Alexandrine will never get a husband,” was almost too much for a devoted eight-year-old.
When the next February rolled around, Alexandrine had commenced to favor one young man over the others, and his intentions were very obvious. Again the gay Carnaval party, again the teasing about her disaster the previous year. Kneeling on the floor watching her make her crêpe, I wondered whether Jules would marry her if this time the pancake fell in the fire. But it didn't. And what's more, she married her jeune homme in the spring. Which proved, you see, that you do get a husband if you can toss your Carnaval crêpe without a mishap.
Crêpes are eaten, but eaten less frequently, the rest of the year, too. Their popularity always carries over into Lent, particularly the crêpes aux épinards, prepared with spinach, that are a specialty of Holy Week. The custom of eating them at that time was well remembered by Mr. Keller, for many years the president of the Ritz-Carlton, whose background was also Continental. As long as he lived, he never had to remind me to make the crêpes aux épinards a couple of times during the last week of Lent, and I don't know which of us ate them with more nostalgia. In this country, the best known crêpes are, I am sure, crêpes Suzette. These dessert crêpes, swimming in a buttery, liqueur-flavored sauce and ladled over with flaming cognac, for which the lights in many restaurants are dimmed, have received the greatest acclaim by food-loving Americans.
In making French crêpes, remember that they are a little different from American pancakes in that the batter contains less flour and more eggs for the amount of milk used. This mixture makes possible those very thin cakes that are so delicately light in texture, almost as fine-grained and smooth to the tongue as a custard. They don't become soggy when confiture is rolled inside them or a sauce is served over. The proportions of flour, eggs, and milk vary with individual cooks, so that any French cookbook you pick up may have a recipe slightly different from every other. I am giving you two basic recipes that have stood the test of time. One, crêpes ménagère, is more like a pancake recipe; the other is a standard for dessert crêpes and contains butter and rum or cognac; and I am also including some variations. But with any of these recipes you will have cakes that will be very thin and will roll up or fold without breaking— that is, if they are properly cooked.
Crêpes, like so many other dishes, improve the practice, after you have learned the little tricks that bring forth the perfect result. Letting the batter stand for a couple of hours after mixing is one that I suggest. his seems to improve the texture. Another is to have a very hot pan, because good crêpes follow quick cooking. Grease the pan well enough to keep them from sticking, but not so much that they will become greasy. Butter is preferred, although in France a good oil is often used in cooking large crêpes. But most important is the quick tilting of the pan as soon as the batter goes in so that it spreads out to the characteristic thinness of these hot tidbits. You do this with a kind of circular motion before the mixture “sets” in the hot pan. Finally, if you are a novice, I wouldn't suggest that you toss your crêpes in the air to turn them as the girls at the Carnaval parties did. Use a broad spatula, first raising the edge a little to see if the cake is brown underneath, and you will have no trouble. But once turned, never flip it over again. That makes any pancake or crépe heavy.
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