Strawberry Cheesecake Crepes

Fourth of July. The cookout in the backyard. Calvin grilled — well, Calvin grilled while I cooked the sides. Burgers, hot dogs, the standard, plus my fried chicken because the holiday is the holiday but the chicken is the chicken. The neighborhood was on porches with their own grills going. The smell came up and down Forest Glen Road like a long conversation.

Calvin preached Sunday on the woman at the well. The church said amen.

Banana pudding Saturday. Nilla wafers layered like sedimentary rock. The custard from scratch — yes, baby, from scratch, none of that boxed nonsense.

The work is the work, baby. I am tired in the right way.

Mr. Henderson across the street brought me a bag of pecans Friday from his tree. I made a pecan pie with them. I took half of it back to him. He said, Loretta, this is wrong, you took my pecans and gave me back a pie. I said, that is exactly right. That is how it works.

Sister Beulah came by Tuesday afternoon to drop off the bulletins. She stayed for coffee. We talked about the church, about her grandbaby, about the heat. The visit was the visit.

Calvin and I watched the news Wednesday evening. He fell asleep in the recliner. I covered him with the afghan that Bernice crocheted before she died. The afghan is holding.

The kitchen smelled like garlic and onion all afternoon Wednesday. Calvin came home from his Bible study and stood in the doorway and said, Loretta, what are we eating. I said, baby, you will see. He said, that is a yes from me. He has been saying that for fifty years.

I made coffee at five Tuesday morning. Strong, with cream, no sugar (the diabetes). I stood at the kitchen window. The yard was still in dark. The day ahead was the day ahead. I went into it.

A new young wife joined the Saturday cooking class. Twenty-two years old. She does not know how to make rice. I will teach her. The chain extends.

I had a small cry Wednesday morning at the kitchen window. No reason in particular. The grief comes when it comes. I made coffee. I went on. That is how this works.

Sister Patrice's husband had heart surgery this week. I drove a meal over Tuesday — chicken and rice, cornbread, peach cobbler. She cried at the door. I told her, baby, eat the food. The food was the saying.

Doris called Thursday. Three times a week, the standard. We talked about Calvin's health. We talked about Harold's health. We talked about the family. We talked about what I was cooking.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. The Bible, then a book Doris sent me about the civil rights movement in Birmingham. The book made me think about Bernice in the church kitchen during the bombings.

Sunday after service Calvin and I drove past the new sanctuary site. The choir loft windows were going in. We sat in the car and looked. He did not speak. I did not speak. The watching was the prayer.

I have been thinking about heaven a lot lately. I do not know what I think. I know what Calvin preaches. I know what the AME doctrine says. I know what my Mama believed. I am at the age, sugar, where heaven is more than a Sunday school answer. I am working on it.

My knees were bad this week. I sat between rounds at the stove. The volunteers tried to take the spoon. I would not let them. The spoon is not negotiable, sugar.

I told that young wife in the Saturday class — the one who does not yet know how to make rice — that the secret is not the recipe, it is the patience. The banana pudding this week was the same lesson: custard from scratch, layers built slow, nothing rushed. These strawberry cheesecake crepes are that same philosophy in a different dress — a creamy filling, fresh fruit, thin batter made by your own hand. You take the time. The food knows the difference.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

For the crepes:
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 salt
For the cheesecake filling:
8 oz cream cheese, softened
3/4 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup heavy whipping cream
For the strawberry topping:
2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
Powdered sugar, for dusting (optional)

Instructions

Make the crepe batter. In a blender or large bowl, combine flour, eggs, milk, melted butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt. Whisk until the batter is completely smooth with no lumps. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes — this relaxes the gluten and gives you a tender crepe.
Macerate the strawberries. While the batter rests, toss the sliced strawberries with sugar and lemon juice in a small bowl. Stir gently and set aside. They will release their juice and become glossy and sweet.
Cook the crepes. Heat a 9- or 10-inch nonstick skillet or crepe pan over medium heat. Brush lightly with melted butter. Pour about 1/4 cup of batter into the center of the pan and immediately tilt and swirl to spread into a thin, even circle. Cook 1 to 1 1/2 minutes until the edges are set and the bottom is lightly golden. Flip carefully and cook 30 seconds more. Transfer to a plate. Repeat with remaining batter, stacking crepes with parchment between them if needed.
Make the cheesecake filling. Beat the softened cream cheese with powdered sugar and vanilla on medium speed until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. In a separate bowl, whip the heavy cream to stiff peaks. Gently fold the whipped cream into the cream cheese mixture in two additions until light and fully combined.
Fill and fold. Lay a crepe flat. Spoon 2 to 3 tablespoons of cheesecake filling across the center. Fold the crepe in half, then in half again to form a triangle, or roll it loosely. Arrange on a serving platter. Repeat with remaining crepes.
Finish and serve. Spoon the macerated strawberries and their juices over the filled crepes. Dust lightly with powdered sugar if desired. Serve immediately, or refrigerate for up to 2 hours before serving.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry Cheesecake Crepes — The Custard Is Always From Scratch, Baby