Cornmeal Crepes.
By Rosalie Harrington
Noni, my Italian grandmother, had a kitchen in the basement of her house in the Beachmont section of Revere. It provided a cooler place to cook in the summer in the days before air conditioning, although the wood-burning stove seemed to heat up the small space rather quickly. With steamy temperatures pushing 100 degrees, I thought about how much more comfortable it would be if my kitchen was in the cellar, like Noni’s.
When our little house was built more than 100 years ago, it wasn’t uncommon for kitchens to be in the basement. Our street was built for migrant laborers who worked on North Shore farms and construction projects. The Italian workers cooked their meals in the cooler basement kitchens. As I prepared a lunch to celebrate my son and his wife’s birthday last Friday, the kitchen became very hot, even though I started cooking around 6 a.m. before the real heat took over.
Most of the meal was made the day before. I had soaked the dry Roman beans overnight. All I had to do was simmer them for 90 minutes, except I didn’t count on the high temperature, not a great day for simmering. I also prepared a caponata the day before, which consisted of a myriad of vegetables such as eggplant, zucchini, red peppers, tomatoes and squash, simmered with olives, herbs, capers, raisins and a splash of balsamic vinegar. This balancing of menu items to allow cooking on separate days is a key to easy entertaining, hot weather or not. As it worked out, all that was left to do in the morning was fry some red peppers and sausages, make a salad and a key lime pie.
I used the prepared graham cracker crust from the market, which saved a great deal of effort, then the rest was easy. Key lime juice from the Florida Keys makes the recipe simple. I remember squeezing those small key limes for the pie before this wonderful bottled juice was available. It wasn’t a simple task. It may sound like lots of work for a birthday meal during the heat of summer, but I love cooking for my family. Plus, my son agreed to bring the granddaughters and to get everyone to my house at noon. It was a miracle because they have suddenly entered a point in their adolescence where it’s not unusual for them to sleep till one in the afternoon. We started the meal with a toast, using alcohol-free champagne. Then we ate in the sweaty August heat, Italian style, for a good hour or more. I loved it, although the girls may have been wishing they were still home in bed.
After my son’s family left, I thought about how much easier life is for me than it was for Noni, who had 10 children. Her garden was in a nearby empty lot whose owner agreed to loan the land in return for a share of the fruits of her labor. Nono, my grandfather, worked as shoe factory foreman. While he did many jobs around the house, the gardening was mostly my grandmother’s domain. She planted with him, but the canning of the vegetables and fruits was mostly her job, as was the cooking and care of the home. Noni was never happier than when she was surprised by a visit from friends or family to distract her from her routine.
Noni had a very primitive kitchen, the focal point of which was the wood-burning stove. Upstairs, she had an old gas range and a modern, electric refrigerator. But there was no food processor, blender, mixer, toaster, dishwasher or coffee maker. She made the best cup of coffee in a small saucepan with a few cups of water and a handful of coffee beans that simmered for a few minutes. She would have been appalled at the idea of anything easier. Noni’s black iron pan was for everything. She fried, simmered, stewed, deglazed and deep-fried in it. She had a device that she clamped onto her table to grind up meat, bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese.
Today, I made crepes, see the recipe below, for my husband Todd and me for breakfast in the crepe pan that I bought in Paris 30 years ago. I thought about how spoiled I am. Noni would have used her iron pan to make crepes, caponata, beans, sausages and peppers, forced to cook each item sequentially. I used four different pans. “Why do you need all this stuff?” I can hear her asking.
When Noni visited me for the first time when I moved to Marblehead as a young mother, she disappeared and I went looking for her. Finally, I spotted her on the neighbor’s lawn, where she was picking dandelions. “I haven’t even met these people yet,” I told her. “They won’t notice,” she reassured me, “They’re Americans and they don’t know you’re supposed to eat them.” After she cleaned the dandelions she tossed them with a little olive oil and a sprinkle of lemon juice and salt. Her cooking was always based on what was in season, simply prepared and delicious.
From an old cookbook, “Italy Anywhere,” the author writes, “There are lots of things I wouldn’t ask an Italian how to do. I wouldn’t ask how to govern a country, and I certainly wouldn’t ask him how to drive. But I would ask him how to eat, and every task associated with eating, from marketing, to cooking, to sitting down at the table with friends. No culture has been as adept at squeezing so much fun and sensual pleasure from one of life’s most basic and essential needs.”
Savory Cornmeal Crepes
Adapted from “Italy Anywhere” by Lori De Mori.
- In a food processor, place 1 cup of ground cornmeal, 1 cup of flour, 1 teaspoon salt, 4 large eggs, 2 tablespoons olive oil and 2 cups of whole milk. Pulse until smooth.
- Allow the batter to rest 30 minutes or so.
- Melt 2 tablespoons butter in a 7-inch crepe or omelet pan. With a paper towel, spread the butter. Keep the buttered towel nearby to grease the pan between each crepe.
- Pour about 3 tablespoons of batter in the pan and tilt the pan quickly until it coats the whole surface of the pan. Cook the crepe for 1 or 2 minutes, until the bottom is slightly browned. Flip the crepe over and cook for another 30 seconds.
- Slip the crepe off the pan onto a plate. Cover with a damp towel to protect crepes from drying out as you continue. You may want to add a little butter to the pan if they appear to be sticking.
Crepes can be wrapped in plastic and stored in the freezer for up to three weeks and thawed in the refrigerator overnight. You can fill with caponata, ratatouille, asparagus or mushrooms that you can bind together with a little tomato sauce, sour cream or béchamel. Serve with a topping of more sauce of your choice. Any leftovers like ham, chicken, shrimp or roasted veggies combined with a little tomato sauce can also be used as a filling.
I filled mine with the leftover caponata that I combined with béchamel sauce and drizzled more sauce on top. The garnish was the beans. Let your imagination take over as you view leftovers as an opportunity to be creative rather than as something boring and old.
