Last weekend, as my fellow Scots across the world were reading poetry to lumps of sheeps' innards and birling each other dizzy on the dancefloor, I did something different. I had a crêpe party.
The original inspirations for the party were Normandy cider bought from the artisan fair at Christmas and the availability of sarrasin flour in the shops, but these aspects of the party both failed due to my English friends having been put off cider by drinking too much White Lightning in bus stops at age 14 and by me doing my shopping in the GS supermarket rather than the French-owned Auchan. The authenticity of the occasion was further depleted by the guests being 50% vegetarian, meaning that many of the traditional French fillings were off the menu for them. We did, however, have a fabulous baked Camembert (I don't know if the French actually do this to Camembert but Mr A made one with herbs and olive oil and it was amazing) and a real Béchamel sauce. (Mr A, backed up by Wikipedia, taught me the difference between Béchamel and white sauce. I proceeded to ruin his creation by making it lumpy.) We bought cheese at both the market and the supermarket and at one point it was filling two shelves in the fridge. For the sweet crêpes, we had Nutella (Italian in origin but beloved by the French), lemons and sugar, and strawberries and banana flambéed in Amaretto.
I might not have eaten haggis at the weekend, but the fusion cuisine more than made up for the loss.
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