There is probably some ancient reason, and doubtless a good one, for Carnaval's being the season in France for eating crêpes and beignets, or as they are called in America, pancakes and fritters. Carnaval is that period from l'Epiphanie jusqu'au mercredi des Cendres—that is, January sixth to Ash Wednesday. I can't tell you the reason. But I suspect that long, long ago fresh foods were so scarce in winter as to be almost nonexistent, and people had to serve at Carnaval parties something made of foodstuffs everyone could get, like flour, milk, and eggs.
What I do know is that by the time February comes to country towns in France, the drifting smell of the friture—the oil for frying fritters—fills the air, and every Frenchman's nose warns him that Lent is not far away. Les veillées, as the evening hours between supper and bedtime are called, are when most of the country folks have their gay parties, and in February there are nice long evenings because the days are still short. Also, these weeks before the forty days and forty nights of fasting begin are favored by the church for fun and feast. Fortunately, the farm work isn't so tiring then, either, as it will be after Easter, when the lighter side of living must be slighted for it. So the time before Lent is right for festivities, and for some reason or other, crêpes and beignets have become the traditional foods.
Eating habits have become as seasonal in France as the religious rites, so that nowadays the season, the food, and the feast—or fast—of the church are bound together in a sort of triple pact. You wouldn't, for example, eat strawberries in February, except perhaps at expensive Parisian restaurants run à grands frais, any more than you would celebrate Easter in October. And the French, on the whole, like it that way. A food isn't more desirable to them just because it is out of season and difficult to obtain.
Au contraire, your realistic and thrifty Frenchman reasons that its being out of season may well mean that he is buying something not quite so good, or at least, not at its best. “Trop cher, mon ami. Alors, nous pouvons attendre.” “Very expensive, my friend. We can wait.” he waiting, meanwhile, serves to whet his appetite. He eats, then, in January and February, most of his year's supply of pancakes, even serving them at the season's parties. And when the berries are ripe in the spring, they taste just that much sweeter to him.
My memories of Carnaval take me back to the small town in the central part of France where I was raised and particularly to my grandparents' farm in the countryside a few miles distant from my own home. Living there were the unmarried sons and daughters, aunts and uncles younger than my parents. Grand' mère celebrated all the feast days, many of which my mother, so busy with her young children, might have to overlook. The whole family was always welcome, and the special foods were on hand for every occasion.
The kitchen of the farmhouse, the biggest room and by far the coziest, was the gathering place. Here was the great long table where at least a dozen of us usually sat down to meals and where Grand'mère so often served eighteen or more. There was no telephone to tell her whom to expect, and she never did know how many cousins might turn up. But on their farm there was always an extra chicken ready to go in the pot; always eggs, it seemed, for omelettes without end. And it was a simple matter to bring a table from another room and seat the children at it.
As I helped her place the chairs around the table, she would say, “Un de plus ou moins, cela n'a pas d'importance, mon petit.” And one more or less didn't make any difference to her.
I can see it all so clearly, the sturdy chairs with their rush seats and the two wooden benches that were drawn up to the table when needed and several of us youngsters crowded onto them. Near the doorway was the old-fashioned horloge, a big clock with heavy tick and swinging pendulum that so fascinate a child. But as soon as supper was over, it seemed to me like a sentinel with a tic-tac tread pacing he minutes that brought bedtime nearer and nearer for a certain small boy called Louis.
As the other end of the room, where the cooking went on, were the fireplace, the stove, the big kitchen cupboard, and, over near the window, Grand'mère's work table Kitchen stoves in those big country kitchens were seldom set against the wall, but instead quite a distance away and in front of the fireplace with plenty of room between the two. The long black stovepipe was stretched overhead against the ceiling, venting the fumes into the fireplace chimney. a great deal of the cooking, however, was done in the fireplace, especially anything cooked in a frying pan. they had big black skillets with those very long handles, necessary when cooking over the open fire, that rested on a metal stand set over the fire itself. Grand'mère could roll an omelette in one of the pans with a skill that any chef would envy. After a well-spaced succession of gentle jerks, you'd see the light, delicately cooked mixture roll over on itself, golden-brown and a perfect shape for the waiting platter.
During the weeks preceding Ash Wednesday in mon pays, there were always four parties, each one honoring a different group. The first party, for the men, came two Sundays before Lent. On the Sunday immediately before, the women were honored. Two Thursdays preceding Ash Wednesday was the day for the unmarried girls and the last Thursday of the Carnaval season for the unmarried young men. The older people talked, played card games, drank the native wine—le bon vin du pays— and ate scores of beignets and crêpes. The young folk always invited someone who played an accordion or other instrument for dancing, and all ate the same refreshments, the beignets and the crêpes.
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.
Crêpes Ménagère
Sift together 1 cup flour, 2 tablespoons sugar, and ¼ teaspoon salt. Add 4 eggs and mix well with a wire whip. Add 1 ¾ cups milk and flavor with a little orange, vanilla, or rum. Mix all together until they are smooth. Put just enough butter in a hot skillet to grease it and when it has melted, pour in enough crêpe batter to cover the skillet thinly. When the crêpes is set and brown on the underside, turn and cook it until brown on the other side. Arrange the crêpes as they come off the griddle on a hot serving dish and sprinkle with powdered sugar. Or serve them with maple syrup or honey, or spread with marmalade or jelly and roll up.
Crêpes
Sift together 2/3 cup flour, 1 tablespoon sugar, and a pinch salt. Beat together 2 whole eggs and 2 egg yolks and add them to the dry ingredients. Add 1 ¾ cups milk and stir all together until smooth. Add 2 tablespoons melted butter and 1 tablespoon rum or cognac. Let the batter stand for 2 hours before using.
To cook the crêpes, put a little butter in a hot skillet, just enough to grease it. When the butter is melted, pour in a thin layer of crêpe batter, rolling the pan slightly to make the layer thin. It should set and become brown in about 1 minute. Then turn it over on the other side and cook until golden-brown. The pan should be quite hot because the quicker they cook, the more tender and delicious the little pancakes are. Fold or roll them up, arrange on a hot serving dish, and sprinkle with confectioners' sugar.
For a mixture that is not quite so delicate but which is easier to handle, use 1 ½ cups milk and 3 eggs and 3 egg yolks to the amounts of other ingredients given in the above recipe.
Crêpe Variation Number 1
Sift together 2 cups flour, 6 tablespoons sugar, and a little salt. Add 6 eggs and mix well with a wire whip. Add 1 cup milk and 1 cup cream. When everything is well combined, flavor with orange, vanilla, or rum. To cook, follow the directions given above.
Crêpe Variation Number 2
Sift together 2 cups flour, 6 tablespoons sugar, and a little salt. Add 2 whole eggs and 3 egg yolks and mix well with a wire whip. Add 2 cups milk and when all is well combined, fold in 3 stiffly beaten egg whites. Flavor with vanilla, orange, or rum. To cook, follow the directions above.
Crêpes with Pineapple
Make up the batter for crêpes. Drain canned pineapple rings and slice each piece crosswise to make 3 thin slices. Place them on cheesecloth or towel to remove surplus moisture. Put a very thin layer of crêpe batter—enough to make a crêpe slightly larger then the pineapple ring—in a very hot, lightly buttered skillet. When it is set and brown on the underside, place one of the thin pineapple slices on it. Pour another very thin layer of crêpe batter over it, turn the crêpe and brown on the other side. Again, it is necessary to work rapidly. Arrange on a hot serving dish and sprinkle with powdered sugar.
Crêpes with Confiture
Make the crêpes slightly larger than usual — about 6 inches across. When done, spread with jam or marmalade and roll them up. Arrange in a heatproof serving dish, sprinkle with sugar, and put in a very hot oven or under broiler heat until the sugar is caramelized.
When it comes to making crêpes Suzette, there seem to be about as many recipes as there are people who make them. But certain characteristics common to them all are that the batter is made quite thin and the cakes themselves are never very large, about 5 to 5 ½ inches across; the sauce is always rich with butter and flavored with orange; and flaming brandy is he final flourish. You can buy special equipment for making them at the table; it's a chafing-dish kind of utensil having an alcohol burner under a flat pan on which the crêpes can be cooked and which is then used in making the sauce. Often the crêpes are cooked in the kitchen and only the sauce done at the table. Or everything can be prepared in the kitchen and the finished dish brought flaming to the table. In most restaurants the headwaiter cooks the sauce on a side table set close to where the guests are eating so that they can watch him. He reheats cooked crêpes brought to him from the kitchen and usually makes quite a ceremony of it. In homes where crêpes Suzette are served, many hosts like to do it this way, too. More power to them!
Crêpes Suzette
Follow the recipe for crêpes, making them about 5 to 5 ½ inches across. Place them on a hot dish to keep warm while preparing the sauce. To make the sauce, take 4 lumps of loaf sugar and rub each one on the skin of an orange in much the same way you would grate the rind. Put the sugar on a plate with 3 tablespoons sweet utter and crush all together with a fork, mixing until all is creamy. Put another 2 tablespoons butter in a chafing dish or in a flat pan and add the juice of 1 orange, a few drops lemon juice, and ½ cup either curaçao, Cointreau, Benedictine, or Grand Marnier. When this comes to the boil, stir in the sugar, butter, and orangerind mixture. Place the crêpes in this sauce, spooning it over them so they will be well-sauced. Fold each crêpe in quarters, like a handkerchief. Sprinkle with ½ cup hot brandy and ignite. Serve with the sauce over them.
Crêpes Suzette Chez Soi (Simpler Home Style)
Follow the recipe for crêpes, making them about 5 to 5 ½ inches across. Place them on a hot dish to keep warm while preparing the sauce. Cream ½ cup butter with ½ cup powdered (or shifted granulated) sugar. Remove the zest (the thin, orange-colored surface of the rind) of 2 oranges with a very fine grater and add to the butter and sugar. Add the juice of 1 orange, a few drops lemon juice, and ¼ cup curaçao or any other desired liqueur. Spread this on the cooked crêpes, then fold or roll them up and arrange on a hot serving dish. Sprinkle with sugar and then with ¼ cup brandy. Ignite and serve flaming.
Crêpes Strasbourgeoise
Follow the recipe for crêpes, making them small. Spread with butter that has been creamed with a little sugar and flavored with kirsch. Roll the crêpes up, sprinkle with granulated or powdered sugar, arrange in a shallow heatproof dish, and graze very quickly under broiler flame. Finely grated chocolate in place of the kirsch may be mixed with the butter and sugar.
Crêpes or Beignets de Pommes de Terre (Potato Pancakes)
Peel and soak in cold water for several hours 2 large potatoes. Grate and drain them and put in a browl with 1 medium-sized onion, grated, ½ teaspoon chopped parsley, 2 tablespoons flour, ½ teaspoon salt, a little pepper, and a little nutmeg. Mix all together well and add 2 egg yolks, slightly beaten. When well combined, fold in the 2 egg whites, beaten stiff. Put a little butter in a skillet and when hot, spread 2 tablespoons of the mixture in the pan for each cake. Cook them over medium heat until golden-brown on each side, turning the cakes only once.
Crêpes aux Epinards (Pancakes with Spinach)
Make a crêpe batter as follows: Mix together 2/3 cup flour with 2 whole eggs, 2 egg yolks, ½ teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon sugar. Add 2 cups milk, combine thoroughly, and strain. Cook the crêpes until they are golden-brown on one side, turn and cook until golden- brown on the other. Spread each with creamed spinach as it comes off the griddle and roll it up.
Crêpes for Soup Garnish
Mix together ½ cup flour and 1 pinch salt. Add 1 egg and mix well with a wire whip. Add ½ cup milk or chicken stock. When well combined, follow the directions for cooking other crêpes. When done, cut them in fine julienne (strips not more than ¼ inch wide) or in small rounds and serve in consommé.
Crêpes for Hors d'Oeuvres
Follow the directions, increasing the quantities as desired, for making crêpes for soup garnish. When done, spread with fish paste, caviar, or other hors d'oeuvre mixture and roll them up.
Beignets, or what are known in this country as fritters, can be made in so many ways and with so many different foods that they require a whole article devoted to them. But for this season of the year I want you to have the recipes for beignets de Carnaval, beignets soufflées, and beignets de fruits because these are the kinds made at this season of the year.
Beignets are cooked in deep, hot fat or oil, and if you have never done any of this type of cooking, let me give you a few hints. Have the oil several inches deep in the pan, but use a pan that allows 2 or more inches between the surface of the oil and the top of the pan to allow for sputtering. A deep-frying thermometer is a great convenience or judging the proper heat of the oil. For beignets it should read 370° to 375° F. But lacking one of these, judge the temperature by the time it takes to cook the beignets. If it takes more time than given in the recipe to bring them to a nice golden-brown, then the oil is not hot enough, and they will taste of grease. If they brown in a shorter time, they will be raw inside.
Beignets de Carnaval
Dissolve ½ envelope yeast in 3 tablespoons lukewarm milk. Sift 4 cups flour on a board or in a bowl and make a well in the center. Put the yeast mixture in the center and then add ½ cup butter that has been standing at room temperature so it is not too firm, 1/3 cup sugar, a pinch salt, 4 eggs, 2 tablespoons rum, a little vanilla extract, and the grated rind of 1 lemon. Mix all together, using the hands or a wooden spoon, gradually pulling the flour into the center until all is well combined. Knead this on a board until it is smooth and elastic. Cover and let stand for a few hours or leave in a cold place overnight. Roll the dough into a very thin sheet, as thin as for noodles, and cut it in strips about 2/3 inch wide and 8 inches long. Tie the strips in a loose knot and let them stand for 20 minutes. Fry in deep, hot fat or oil (375° F.) for 7 to 8 minutes or until goldenbrown. Drain or absorbent paper and sprinkle with sugar. Serve immediately.
Beignets Soufflées (Pets de Nonne)
This is a cream puff, or choux paste mixture, that is cooked in deep fat. Bring to a boil 1 cup water, ½ cup butter, ½ teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon sugar. Remove from the heat and add 1 cup flour. Return to the heat and cook, stirring briskly until the mixture rolls away from the sides of the pan without sticking to it. Add 4 eggs, 1 at a time, mixing each one in well before adding the next. Add a little lemon, vanilla, or rum flavoring. Head the oil or fat to 375° F. and let the fat get a little hotter as the beignets cook.
To cook, fill a tablespoon with the mixture and slip half of it off into the hot fat with a knife. Then slip off the other half, making two beignets from each spoonful. When brown on the underside, they will turn themselves over and sometimes they will turn back again. When they have finished turning and are golden-brown, they are done. This should take about 5 minutes. Serve immediately, sprinkled with powdered sugar, or with a vanilla custard sauce or apricot sauce (see GOURMET, December, 1948). This recipe makes more than 2 dozen beignets.
Beignets de Fruits
To make the batter, sift together ½ cup flour with ¼ teaspoon salt. Beat 1 egg, add 1 tablespoon melted butter, and combine this with the flour and salt. Add ½ cup flat beer and stir only until the mixture is smooth. Put the batter in a warm place to let it become light and foamy. Then fold in 1 stiffly beaten egg white.
To prepare the fruit, drain and dry the surface of large canned fruit such as peaches. Sprinkle apple slices with sugar and lemon juice, let them stand for about 1 hour, and dry them a little. Drain berries or other small fruit thoroughly, or the batter will not cling. Dip the pieces of large fruit in the batter and make sure that each piece is completely covered. Drop into the hot oil or fat (375° F.) and cook until golden-brown all over. Arrange the fritters in a shallow pan, sprinkle with sugar, and put under the broiler flame until the sugar is glazed.
For small fruit, add the fruit to the batter, using about 2 cups well-drained fruit. Drop by spoonfuls into the hot fat (375° F.) and cook until they are golden-brown all over, or for about 5 minutes. Serve hot with powdered sugar or will a vanilla or sabayon sauce or any of the fruit sauces (see GOURMET, December, 1948).