Memories

standard February 22, 2007 Leave a response

Last night I made crepes for dessert. I was hoping for a little sweetness after my meal, I got that and more.
I haven’t made crepes in years. I can actually remember the last time I made them. It was way back when M and I were living in Paris, even before we got engaged. But, standing in front of my stove yesterday, pouring the batter into the pan, swirling it around, watching the edges crisp to the just the right texture, slipping the spatula under the crepe, and flipping the perfect golden round over flooded my mind with memories.
Yesterday I stood there and remembered the countless family crepe dinners. My mother standing at the stove for hours (thank you mom!) flipping over endless crepes for our gaping little mouths. I remembered the little bowls of chopped ham and grated cheese that we sprinkled on our own crepes. I remembered the taste of a warm crepe spread with strawberry jam. Shoving the last bite into my mouth as I begged for yet another.
I remembered a group of friends coming over for a Mardi Gras crepe evening. We dressed the guys up in girl clothes and one friend was mortified when my mother asked him if he was wearing her skirt. (Years later he became my boyfriend and still blushed at the thought of that first encounter with my mom.) We all sat around and goofed off as we took turns getting things ready. Our first crepe was a hit, but the next few were complete duds, and we were worried that we would not be able to make more than one. I can still hear the girl who had eaten the first crepe quipping “that’s ok, I’m not hungry any more!” We never let her forget that moment.
Tonight I warmed up the left overs and stumbled onto yet another memory. A close friend and I walked to school almost every day in college. His father was a great cook and made amazing crepes. This friend would sometimes surprise me with a little foil packet of crepes, still warm from the stove, for an impromptu breakfast snack. Until tonight I had completely forgotten the feeling of being loved like that. The simple gesture of friendship, the warm dough melting in my mouth, the morning walk to school.
I’m glad I dragged out my crepe pan yesterday, I had forgotten the joy that a simple food can bring, filling your belly, warming your soul.

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