Thursday, May 01, 2003

Eric said something disturbing to me last night.  I was straightening up the kitchen before embarking upon Crepes Farcies et Roulees avec Fondue de Crustaces when he said, “You know, you haven’t thrown a fit in a long time.  Like one of those where you smack your head against the wall and scream, ‘I hate myself!  I hate myself!’ over and over.” And you know what?  He was right. I really did get a sort of sinking feeling in my stomach.  Jesus.  Self-hatred, bitterness and hysteria are my trademarks.  I really don’t know what I’ll do without them. Well, I thought, surely Crepes Farcies et Roulees avec Fondue de Crustaces will provide ample opportunity for practice. Alas, no.  Even though I had the blender plugged in with the cord stretched across the kitchen to the blender’s customary spot on the trashcan, I did not send crepe batter flying.  Instead, I very easily blended together milk, water, eggs, salt, flour and melted butter, poured the stuff into a bowl, and stuck it in the fridge to chill (actually the freezer.  It’s supposed to chill for two hours, but was already almost eight o’clock, and anything I can do not to eat at midnight these days I try.  Getting old, I guess.)  As for the filling, it was just like every other béchamel-based sauce I’ve ever made, only with canned crabmeat.  For the crabmeat, I sautéed minced red onion, since I’d neglected to buy shallots or green onions, with some butter in a pan, stirred in the drained canned crabmeat (it was imported, so don’t give me too much shit), poured in some Madeira.  Let that simmer a bit covered, then uncovered it and turned up the heat to evaporate the liquid.  Salted and peppered and oregano-ed to taste. Rouxed up with butter and flour, poured in a cup of boiling milk, salt and peppered, boiled.  Beat an egg yolk and some cream in a bowl, stirred the roux-stuff into it, put Edwina back in bowl, and boiled again.  Stirred in some swiss cheese and the crabmeat stuff, and that was that. Made up the crepes, which are seriously too easy even to talk about, though it takes a bit of time.  Heat up the skillet nice and hot, Pam it and rub it with a piece of bacon, pour in about half a cup of crepe batter, turn the skillet all around until the batter’s all spread out.  Cook for a minute, turn over with a spatula, cook the other side.  I didn’t even fuck one up.  They’re really just exactly pancakes.  No problemo.  So I scoop some filling into each crepe, and roll them up.  They’re really just exactly enchiladas.  Piece of cake.  Sauteed them in butter in the pan until they got kind of crisp, and voila!  Crepes Farcies et Roulees avec Fondue de Crustaces, just in time for West Wing. These things are some good good good shit.  Seriously.  So fucking easy, and I would feed royalty this stuff.  I’d feed David Strathairn this stuff.  (Are you listening, David?  Just come on by – after yet another night of listening to Al the P. crow, “Salome??!!!!” for an hour and a half, you deserve it!) And did anyone else notice that Allison Janney looked totally punk rock this week?  So, since dinner was so successful-slash-boring, I decided that the only thing for it was to watch “Extreme Makeover.” You know what?  I cried not once but twice.  I feel so dirty.  Eric cried three times, but that’s just because there was a cute-as-a-button African-American child hanging around.  (That scene in Armageddon with the black kid in front of the American flag had him bawling like a baby.  Sorry, Eric, but the truth must be told.)   7:48:52 AM    comment []