Buttermilk Buckwheat Beet Crepes: A Brief Tutorial

Here is what I know about about crepe making.  Do not attempt them under the following circumstances:

If you do not have a sturdy sauté pan.  (It does not have to be non-stick, but you cannot be evangelically opposed to butter.)

If you have had more than two cocktails.

If you have had any cocktail named as follows: the Boilermaker (postmodern hipster version: Dad’s Manhattan and a Rolling Rock); Wrath; Sheena Easton; anything that comes in a Scorpion Bowl.

If you are down to a single pair of knee-high orange stripped socks and are procrastinating the laundry.

If you have said, “I don’t know why I’m crying,” in the past twenty-four hours.

If you are ovulating.

If you are someone who angers easily about ovulation jokes.

If you are over thirty and have recently been asked why you aren’t married.  Give yourself two points if it was a relative.

If you have just listened to Seger’s “Turn the Page,” as covered by Metallica.

The point is crepes require your full attention.  Distractions will only complicate matters.  You must have your mental prowess. You must not be easily shaken by emotional shrapnel, housekeeping interference, or more than two fingers of whiskey.  For at least a good 30 minutes.

I know this because the day I finally nailed this recipe, I was as calm as the ocean is blue.  It took a few attempts to work out the kinks.  But it certainly didn’t help that prior efforts were on less than six hours of sleep, with laundry piling, and a plague of circling fruit flies with aspirations of biblical proportions.

Crepes can sense these sorts of things.  I swear they collapse on purpose.

But they are worth making.  For one, the recipe is vetted.  It involved a weird two weeks during which I ate beets daily.  We won’t talk about the aftereffects.  The dedication was apparent.

But these are simply beautiful.  They are fuchsia-colored with black buckwheat specks.  They don’t taste particularly beet-y, but they have a slight lingering earthiness and resilient chew. The buttermilk lends its tang and all of this taken together nearly threatens sensory overload, until you remember that you are eating a crepe.

Never mind the pink. Actually, totally mind the pink.  The pink is the point. Never mind everything else.

Buttermilk Buckwheat Beet Crepes

Ingredients:

• 1 medium-large beet (about 3-inches), cooked and peeled
• 1 cup buttermilk (have extra around if your batter needs a little thinning, see below)
• 1/3 cup buckwheat flour, sifted
• 2/3 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
• 2 tsp sugar
• 4 eggs
• 2 tbsp butter, melted and slightly cooled, plus more for greasing the pan
• scant ½ tsp kosher salt

Instructions:

Puree the beet in food processor, thinning it out with a little water (about ¼ cup) until the mixture starts to loosen slightly.  Using a wire mesh strainer, separate out the pulp; reserve the solids for another use.  You should get about 1/3 cup of liquid.  Pour the beet juice into a measuring cup.  If it’s just a little shy of 1/3 cup, simply add a bit more buttermilk than called for: you’ll need 1-1/3 cups total liquid between the juice and the buttermilk.

In a medium bowl, combine the liquid with the flours, sugar, eggs, melted butter, and salt; whisk together. Let the batter sit for an hour (this is important).

When you are ready to prepare the crepes, heat a 9-inch sauté pan on medium-high heat. Butter the pan, discarding any pooling fat.  Pick the pan up and pour 1/3 cup of crepe batter in the center of the pan and quickly swirl it with your wrist to evenly distribute the batter.  This will probably take a few crepes to get the hang of it. 

The crepe will cook for about 30 to 60 seconds (until it starts to look dry to the touch on the top side).  Using a rubber spatula, gently flip the crepe and cook for another 15 to 30 seconds.

Re-butter the pan, as needed (I did about every other crepe, wiping out the excess butter).

Repeat until the batter is gone. 

Makes about 10 crepes

Notes:

1. Buttermilk provides a nice tang but it is a bit tricky to work with because brands have varying consistencies and some can make the batter a little thick.  If you want to avoid this altogether, just use milk. Ultimately, your crepe batter should be the texture of cream.  (I’ve thinned it out with a little water in a pinch, but it should also settle as it sits.)  Which reminds me: don’t neglect letting the batter sit, the crepes are easier to handle and hold together much better after resting. And hang tight, the first few crepes are typically troublemakers. 
2. The crepes will last about four days in the fridge.  Or you can freeze them between pieces of parchment or wax paper for longer.
3. To cook beets, I roast them in foil with some olive oil and salt at 425 degrees until they’re knife-tender.
    

Breton Fleur de Sel Buckwheat Cake, Sun in the Sky

I have accepted this time of year tends to be a bit bland for my taste.  The grayness that lurks in the crevice of February and March usually forces me into hibernation.  During this time I keep to myself, and try to keep out of trouble.  This year I failed, miserably. 

The two-day affair I had with an unforgiving frozen yogurt recipe is one I would rather forget.  An encounter with a slab of pork belly shot me straight out of a dead sleep, our earlier romance lingered violently on the cold bathroom floor for the next few hours. In a last-ditch effort, I looked for solace in a lackluster bouillabaisse, wasting saffron and drinking too much wine in the process.

Of course none of this helped.  I just felt puffy.  I stopped interacting with others. Bright lights became irritating.  I growled at people showing signs of affection.  I began to wonder if maybe I had Asperger’s. 

But then I made this cake. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon.  As the sugar and butter fluffed up, I started to breath again.  Once the smell of cinnamon and dark rum crept through my apartment, I stopped grinding my teeth. 

When I took the cake from the oven, its glossy, yellow crosshatched pattern smiled at me with a cakey gap-toothed grin.  For the first time in quite a long while, I did not feel compelled to scoff. 

I heard Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good” start up in my head.  Fish in the sea, you know how I feel.  Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel.  Everyday cake lovers, you know how I feel.

This is a rich cake that uses nutty buckwheat to its advantage, playing off the butter and rum.  The fleur de sel melds these flavors, supports them, and serves as a salty backbone for the cake. 

It is a simple cake.  A very pretty cake.  A special cake that looks and tastes far better than its ingredients would lead you to believe. 

And so I am leaving my hole.  Winter recluses, you know how I feel.  The end bits of February never seem very pleasant.  Not that this cake is a cure-all, but it is certainly a welcoming recipe. A worthy end of winter companion.  Amazing what a little butter and buckwheat can do.

It’s a new dawn.  A new day.  And a new cake.  And I’m feeling good.

Breton Fleur de Sel Buckwheat Cake

Adapted from Diary of a Locavore

Ingredients:

for the cake

• 1 cup buckwheat flour
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• a scant ¾ tsp fleur de sel, plus a few extra grains to sprinkle on top of the cake
• ¼ tsp cinnamon
• ½ pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup light muscovado sugar
• 4 large egg yolks
• 1 large egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 tbsp dark rum

for the glaze

• 1 large egg yolk
• 1 tsp milk

Instructions:

Set your oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a 9-inch pie pan with butter. 

In a small bowl, sift the flours, ¾ tsp salt, and cinnamon.  Combine the butter and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat until the mixture is light and fluffy. 

While the mixer is on low speed, add the egg yolks one at a time and finally the whole egg. Then add the vanilla and rum.  Mix in the dry ingredients, a third of the flour mixture at a time.  Stir the mixture with a rubber spatula until it just comes together and the flour is no longer visible.

Pour the batter into your prepared pie pan (it will be thick).  Use your spatula to smooth it over.

Whisk the egg yolk and milk together for the glaze.  Brush it generously on top of the cake and then, using the tines of a fork, rake three parallel lines across the cake in one direction and three parallel lines in the other direction. 

For a picture of this, see here. 

Sprinkle the cake with just a little bit more of fleur de sel, a pinch or so; use your judgment.  Bake the cake for about 25 to 30 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and a toothpick or cake tester comes out clean when inserted into it. 

Let cool slightly on a wire rack.

Makes enough for 6 to 8 humans

Notes:

1. Be careful not to overbake this cake.  It can dry out if you do.
2. This recipe was originally attributed to David Lebovitz. It comes from his book The Sweet Life in Paris. Which does not surprise me in the least. (The cake also freezes brilliantly.)
3. I used muscovado because the time called for something fancy. Light brown sugar can be substituted.