I know ya'll have been just dying for some new recipe, so I'll give you one. Keep in mind, kids, this is a really easy recipe to mix up, but a lot of practise to get right. THAT'S RIGHT. IT'S GODDAMN CREPE TIME, MOTHERFUCKERS.
As I'm sure you are aware, crepes are not only fucking delicious, but the perfect vehicle for all sorts of lovely toppings. Nutella, whipped cream, strawberries, apple compote, infant tears, the blood of virgins, and even savory toppings as well, which will be covered in a post when I manage to stop smearing mine in Nutella and infant tears (When I run out of nutella and can afford no more).
YOU READY FOR THIS SHIT? DON'T BE SCARED. I'LL BE GENTLE.
Okay, your grocery list for these delicious fuckers is really simple-
2 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1 cup flour
Oh, and guess what? It's really just as easy as throwing that shit in a bowl and mixing until smooth. Shit, you probably have all that stuff in your cupboards.
Pouring it out is fuckloads harder. Why? Because you're undoubtedly just like me. You don't have one of those fancy-ass crepe griddles do you? FUCK NO YOU DON'T.
FEAR THE FUCK NOT. I WILL SAVE YOU.
BUT HOW? You demand, your fingers desperately scrolling to find my secret to perfect crepes. Well, tough titties. My crepes are still abominations against the MOA, and I've been working at it.
In all honesty, your best bet there hon is gonna be to take a 1/4 c of your mix and lay it down in a large (preferably nonstick, trust me) frying-type pan. As soon as it's in the pan, you want to be turning your pan all sorts of angles, getting that batter in as many places as you possibly can.
That's gonna take work. It's totally up to you how you get that paper-thin crepe on the plate. If you figure it out, let me know. I sure as fuck don't.
Now, onto your cooktime. If you're like me, then fuck timers. Spartans didn't have timers, why do you get one? Nah, keep that fucker in the pan until it looks dryish all across the top. THEN, using a pancake turner, flip it over. That's the bit where I'm grateful for TEFLON (Even if Spartans didn't have them)(Spartans also didn't have crepes).
When your crepe is appropriately golden-y brown, slide that delightful bastard onto a plate and (if you're me) smother it with a layer of the hazelnutty mouth orgasm of ~Nutella~. Fold her in half, roll her up and fill her insides with whipped cream. Prepare thyself. Consume. Repeat.
SOUNDS ALL DIFFICULT AND SHIT, RIGHT? WRONG.
Making a crepe sounds only slightly easier than crawling out of hell, or from the depths of under-the-bed, but in reality, like learning how to make the perfect pancake, it's rarely a gift, and you usually are going to eat a lot of weirdly thick crepes before you get to epic-levels.
AND remember, those fuckers at crepe stands have actual crepe griddles and make fuckloads of them every day. You're making one for breakfast-second-breakfast-elevensies-lunch-tea-dinner-and-supper. Seriously, nobody's judging you when you're throwing down a piece of Nutella-smothered joy.
Au revoir, motherfuckers!
