As January comes to a close, it’s really starting to feel like 2010. This weekend, while less activity filled than, say, our cross country ski marathon, was well enjoyed. On Saturday morning I was inspired by Bon Appétite to prepare crêpes for breakfast. With only one so bad it had to go straight to the trash (that was #3, one and two came out just fine), I am no longer afraid of this thin egg pancake with a French accent. Bon Appétite may be right, “crêpes are a cinch, with no special… pan required.” We enjoyed ours with a mix of cheeses inside (gruyère was the clear favorite) along with chopped cilantro and green onions and the occasional splash of chipotle Tabasco. If you’d like to try your hand at the recipe, hop over to Bon Appétite’s website. Don’t worry if you don’t have buckwheat at home; not about to run out on a Saturday morning, I used a mix of rye and whole wheat flours instead.

Martha: café con leche, largo de leche (left). Tom: tinto (right).

See you in February!

Thanks to the Monday holiday, Tom and I have today, tomorrow, and Monday off. This time last year we were headed to Red Wing, MN; this year we’ll be exploring the Twin Cities. With a couple of pairs of rented skis, the plan to stay in town is shaping up pretty well. We’ve light-breakfasted (on granola), skied, and brunched already. We’ll see where the afternoon takes us….

In Sweden, Waffle Day is celebrated on March 25, called Vårfrudagen (Our Lady’s Day). For Catholics, today is known as the Feast of the Annunciation—celebrating the annunciation given by the angel Gabriel to Mary that she was to become the mother of Jesus.

According to our friends at the American Swedish Institute, Vårfrudagen was in some Swedish dialects pronounced Vafferdagen, and later it became Våffeldagen (Waffle Day). As as result of all of this calculated, waffle-inducing pronunciation, every March 25 people in Sweden bake waffles, eating them with lingonberry jam and whipped cream. And, so did we.

I’ve been craving McDonald’s sausage biscuits all week for some reason, but the grocery store is closer than McDonald’s. Buttermilk is a wonderful thing.

As a recovering ovophobe, I am very particular about how I like my eggs. Having spent 21 years of my life actively avoiding any egg not mixed into a sauce, dough or batter, even after I made the decision to start eating eggs I didn’t have much of a taste for them. So far, I have only dared to try scrambled eggs or eggs cooked well done, omelette style (well, more tortilla style). Some day I aspire to fried and poached eggs, but that day is a long way off. Even when eggs are cooked into a browned circle with ingredients I love, I dread the bites that, well, taste like eggs.

My solution? Hot sauce! Tabasco is my usual choice, but recently we had a jar of the Twin Cities’ own Salsa Lisa in the refrigerator . This is the only salsa available here that I think comes close to approaching the Michigan deliciousness of Jack’s. Be careful though, I am told it is only good in the hot variety.

Now doesn’t this frittata look much better?