Authentic French Nutella Strawberry Crepes

Spring is asserting itself — the crocuses are up, the daffodils are pushing through, and the Portland cherry blossoms are beginning their annual pink explosion. I walked Miya to the waterfront on Saturday and the cherry trees were at maybe thirty percent bloom, which is enough to stop and look up and remember that the world does this every year without being asked, which is the most hopeful thing I know.

I made sakura onigiri — pink-tinted rice balls with pickled sakura leaves, the kind Fumiko used to make in March when the cherry blossoms came to Sacramento. The recipe requires pickled cherry blossoms, which Uwajimaya carries in spring, and the salt-preserved blossoms give the rice a floral, slightly briny flavor that tastes like spring itself. Miya ate two and asked for more. "More pink rice," she said, which is a sentence I will remember forever, both because it is adorable and because it means my daughter has developed an aesthetic preference for color-coordinated food, and I am not sure whether to be proud or concerned.

I called Fumiko. She was tired. I could hear it — a heaviness in her voice, a slowness that was not just age but something else, something I do not want to name because naming it makes it real and real is a place I am not ready to go. She asked about Miya. She asked about the cherry blossoms. She did not ask about my cooking, which is unusual, because Fumiko always asks about my cooking. The absence of the question was louder than the question would have been.

I told Ken about the phone call. Dad said she has been tired lately, sleeping more, eating less. He said it matter-of-factly, the way he reports everything — weather, Parkinson's research, Fumiko's decline — as data, not feeling. But I heard the feeling underneath the data, the way I always hear it, the way a daughter learns to read a father who speaks in facts and feels in silence. He is worried. I am worried. We are worried together, separately, in the Nakamura way — without saying so, without touching, without the comfort that other families offer freely and that ours withholds not from cruelty but from custom.

I am going to Sacramento next month. I have already bought the ticket. The urgency is back, louder than before, the animal voice saying: go. Go now. Do not wait. I am going.

Miya’s “more pink rice” request did not stop with the onigiri — the next morning she woke up asking for something pink again, which is how I ended up at the stove folding crepes while spring light came through the kitchen window. These Authentic French Nutella Strawberry Crepes have become our second spring ritual: thin, pale rounds filled with Nutella and sliced strawberries that blush the same soft color as the cherry trees at the waterfront. They are simple enough to make before I have had my coffee, and generous enough to feel like a celebration, which is exactly what I needed on a morning when I was already thinking about Sacramento and Fumiko and all the things I cannot fix from here.

Prep Time: 10 min + 30 min rest | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 8 crepes

Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
1 1/4 cups whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus more for the pan
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pinch of fine salt
1/2 cup Nutella (or other hazelnut-chocolate spread)
1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and thinly sliced
Powdered sugar, for dusting

Instructions

Make the batter. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, eggs, milk, melted butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt until completely smooth with no lumps. Cover and let the batter rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes — this relaxes the gluten and gives you tender, pliable crepes.
Heat the pan. Warm a 9- or 10-inch non-stick skillet over medium heat. Add a small knob of butter and swirl to coat. The pan is ready when a drop of batter sizzles immediately on contact.
Cook the crepes. Pour about 1/4 cup of batter into the center of the pan and immediately tilt and swirl the pan in a circular motion so the batter spreads into a thin, even round. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes until the edges look dry and just begin to lift from the pan. Flip gently with a thin spatula and cook the second side for 30 seconds. Transfer to a plate and repeat with the remaining batter, adding a small amount of butter between crepes as needed.
Warm the Nutella. If your Nutella is stiff, microwave it in a small bowl for 10 to 15 seconds and stir until smooth and spreadable.
Fill and fold. Lay a crepe flat on a plate and spread about 1 tablespoon of Nutella across the lower half. Arrange a layer of sliced strawberries over the Nutella. Fold the crepe in half over the filling, then fold again into a quarter-triangle. Repeat with remaining crepes.
Serve. Arrange the folded crepes on a serving platter or individual plates. Dust generously with powdered sugar and garnish with any remaining strawberry slices. Serve immediately while warm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Authentic French Nutella Strawberry Crepes — Pink and Sweet for the Days Spring Asks You to Stay Present