Nigella Eats Everything

It’s funny isn’t it, how one of the best British traditions is actually French? Maybe only the Brits and the French will see the irony of this because, well, we hate each other. In a brotherly-sisterly kind of way. We often get offended by the other’s behaviour and stop talking to them for a while. We say catty things behind each other’s backs. But then, when push comes to shove and one of us is invaded or something, the other will be the first to charge in the defence brigade.

And so, I found out the French have a Pancake Day too – La Chandeleur – and oh yeah, my Pancake Day is a day of eating a lot of French crepes. Commonalities with your truest enemy are disconcerting. (By the way, did anyone else know that the British motto is in French? We really should update that.)

Anyway, what with all this Frenchness surrounding a beloved day on the British calendar where adults and children alike delight in making all sorts of pancakes, I’ve decided to throw aside my dignity and make caramel beurre salé for my crepes this year. If you can’t beat em, join em.

It also doesn’t hurt that caramel beurre salé slathered all over a crepe really is quite spectacular.

Caramel Beurre Salé

Hear me out: Nutella in a crepe has had its heyday. I know, I know, I like Nutella as much as the next guy and a Nutella crepe from a little creperie stand in Paris, yes, is a mouth-watering, chocolatey handwarmer, but please, it’s time we all move on.

Which is why I am here flaunting a pot of caramel beurre salé like I’m on one of those home shopping channels. I made three batches of it in the last couple of weeks. The first crystallised (naturally), the second was far too dark because I wasn’t paying enough attention, and the third – just like for Goldilocks – I found to be perfect. So perfect indeed that I couldn’t keep it for crepes alone.

Once I grew bored of spreading peanut butter on a rice cracker as a mid-afternoon ‘healthy’ snack, I simply dipped that polystyrene excuse of a wafer in the jar of caramel beurre salé. Oooh yeah, caramel beurre salé can make anything taste delicious. Even a non-entity of a food like a rice cracker (we urgently need to do a food shop).

Caramel beurre salé tore up the internet a few years ago but you’ll probably know it better by its name in English: salted caramel (or a literal translation, salted butter caramel).

I hope I don’t come across as too pretentious by using its French name, dear reader. It’s just, I have no excuse, I want to don my beret and purse my lips in that disapproving way the French have mastered. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery as they say. I can almost feel the indignant ‘Bahhhh!’ pushing at my lips, as if there’s a little French person in there eager to set straight anyone who dared question whether caramel beurre salé and Pancake Day are synonymous. Bah ouais! (Loose translation: Well yeah).

Crepes for Pancake Day

Gaylord made the crepes. He always makes the crepes. His top three skills include driving, impromptu performance art, and crepe-making. He is and always will be the crepe-maker in this house. There’s the swish and sizzle as he swirls the batter around the hot frying pan, twisting the pan up and around like he’s tying a complicated knot in the air. He sets it down on the heat and slowly the crepe draws itself in defensively, but soon enough, over it goes. The underside is all freckled in dark beauty spots.

Is there a trick to making good pancakes? I consult my crepe-maker: Gaylord rests his head on his hand thoughtfully. Rest your batter for 30 minutes, he says, but not in the fridge. It needs to be at room temperature otherwise the heat contrast between the cold mixture and the hot pan can result in burnt crepes. You heard the man, folks.

He always makes my pancake first. I stand there expectantly, plate in hand and he slips the crepe, steaming and smelling of vanilla, on to it. I then dunk my spoon into the sticky, gooey caramel beurre salé – it’s heavy, weighing down my wrist. A satisfyingly big blob hits my crepe and I spread it out to the edges. Then I scatter it all with berries – all I have are frozen mixed berries as it is February, but the heat of the crepe will defrost them, I tell myself. They are sprinkled on top and I fold my crepe into quarters.

Before Gaylord’s finished cooking his own, I have eaten most of my crepe. The berries balance that sticky sweetness, the salted caramel melts from the residual heat and drips down my hand and on to my plate, and I am ready for him to cook me a second.

Below are the instructions on how to make an easy French crepe for Pancake Day. All the ingredients of which are already in your cupboards which means you could eat them every day if you wanted! Eat twice as much to celebrate both days of pancakes and cover them in caramel beurre salé. On these two days, I like to think the two countries are extending their hands over that tiny strip of water between us. We’re friends really.