It’s weird how much I long for both the coming of summer and its end. We’re breathing a little more easily now, as the year shifts into a slower tempo, the traffic has thinned, and all the guests have gone — almost. We have one late arrival at Wiley Cottage now, one whose visit we’ve been eagerly anticipating all season.
Christopher’s father, an artist who lives in Austin, first came to stay with us in Truro shortly after we bought the cottage 15 years ago. Just as we had, Pops quickly fell in love with the house and with Truro. He’s visited a few times since, to see us, certainly, but also for the solitude to be found in the little house here. I enjoy his visits in no small part because I fall in love anew each time I see this magical place through his eyes.
A lot has changed in 15 years — for him and for us. There have been a few health scares for Pops and some anxious waiting for news. He’s not as solid on his feet as he once was, and the marble, granite, and alabaster that he’s carved for decades now challenge his older hands. Pops is having his Matisse moment, though, turning to drawing and collage instead.
Truth be told, we worried we’d never get to welcome him back to the cottage again. But here he is, all settled in, basking in the adagio pace of fall.
Pops is solitary by nature. He doesn’t require a lot of hand-holding. He gets up early and spends the morning with his coffee and a sketch pad, then takes a walk down Old County Road. When I join him, our conversations are companionable but full of “rich and elaborate silences” — a phrase I came across somewhere and jotted down in my notebook.
Because he likes things simple, our meals together are, too. I’m glad about that. It’s not yet time for the complicated cooking projects I’m sure to want to take on this winter.
Christopher and I have a code for signaling when we’re too tired to cook: “An omelet and a glass of wine?” I’ll say, using the title of Elizabeth David’s 1984 book of essays and recipes. This means that we’re going to take it easy. And while I draw the line at cereal over the sink, I can get on board with eggs for supper, perhaps with a bit of blue cheese and some minced herbs mixed in.
The other night, as I was leafing through recipes to make for the three of us, another breakfast-for-supper dish caught my eye: Dutch baby. The name made me smile, and I read on. A Dutch baby, at least this kind, is not an infant from Holland but a raised pancake, undoubtedly from a recipe carried to this country by German immigrants.
Some food historians place its emergence in the U.S. in the early 1900s, when a version appeared on the menu at Seattle’s Manca’s Cafe. “Dutch,” they figure, is a variant of Deutsch or German, referring to its origins, and “baby” likely describes the fact that Manca’s made it in individual portions.
The batter is heavy on eggs, poured into a hot skillet or baking dish, then baked in the oven so that it rises like a soufflé. Puffed up and with a crispy golden crust, the dish is not unlike a big Yorkshire pudding. Traditionally, it’s a breakfast dish served with powdered sugar, butter, lemon, and berries or jam. A little more recipe sleuthing confirmed my suspicion that the pancake can also be a handy vehicle for savory flavors.
Melissa Clark in the New York Times makes it with bacon and wedges of camembert on top. That sounded good, but since we’re swinging vegetarian while Pops is in residence, I decided on a version flavored with hard cheese and herbs. I used a mixture of pecorino Romano and Parmesan because that’s what I had on hand, and sage, because, well, it’s fall. Any combination of cheeses and herbs would work. And if you’re not in a vegetarian mood, half a cup of bacon or ham, diced small and browned in a skillet, would be a tasty addition.
A few tips I’ve gleaned from reading multiple recipes: First, have your ingredients at room temperature for maximum loft. Some cooks even whiz the liquids in a blender for better volume. Note that the butter spatters when the baby’s browning, so protect yourself accordingly when reaching for the skillet.
Supper’s simplicity matched the moment, the chance to be there with Christopher and Pops together, watching one of those sunsets that I used to think painters here made up, and savoring our version of an omelet with a glass of wine and a little salad on the side.
SAVORY DUTCH BABY
Makes 4 to 6 servings
1 cup plus 2 Tbsps. all-purpose flour
½ tsp. kosher salt
½ tsp. ground black pepper
8 large eggs
¾ cup whole milk
2 Tbsps. finely chopped fresh sage
2 Tbsps. minced parsley or chives
6 Tbsps. unsalted butter
½ cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano
½ cup grated pecorino Romano
Lemon wedges for serving
- Heat oven to 425° F and have all the ingredients at room temperature.
- In a large bowl, whisk together flour, salt, and pepper. In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs and milk together vigorously, then stir in sage and other herbs. As with regular breakfast pancakes, stir the wet ingredients into the dry until just combined: don’t let the lumps seduce you into overmixing.
- Melt the butter in a heavy 12-inch ovenproof skillet and let it bubble until it smells nutty and browns lightly, swirling the skillet gently so that the butter coats the bottom of the pan.
- Pour batter into pan and distribute the cheeses evenly over the top. Bake until puffed and golden, about 25 minutes. Serve with lemon wedges on the side.
Note: If you want a little drama from this faux soufflé, have everyone assemble when you pull it from the oven. It’s quite a glorious sight when it emerges, but quickly loses steam. Even in its less statuesque state, it’s still delicious.
