My biggest take away from blogging is the sense of community I’ve discovered. Or, really communities. I don’t live under a rock. A simple Google search for marinara sauce will show you there are infinite food bloggers out there. From the well established ones like Smitten Kitchen, to smaller WordPress blogs like my own. When I launched my blog, I sent my thoughts and recipes out to join the infinite other recipes and bloggers out there. I hoped people beyond my friends and family would take a look and maybe even comment. But when I launched my blog I found a world of other bloggers. Here in Brooklyn, across the country and across the world. And through potlucks and penpal programs I’ve connected with people beyond the keyboard.
This month I was welcomed into the Secret (Shh!!) Recipe Club. Two years ago April over at Angels Homestead and Amanda at Amanda’s Cookin’ thought it would be fun to cook something off a friend’s blog and share the results, but make it bigger with a few friends. The program expanded as a way to meet other bloggers, cook and share, thus the Secret Recipe Club was born. I learned about SRC about a year ago. Once I met the requirements of having at least 100 original recipes and a recipe index, I applied for their long waiting list. Fast forward to a few weeks ago when April welcomed me into the club!
When I was a kid, my grandmother would make crepes, or naleśniki, all the time. Blueberry was the favorite, but always filled with some sort of fruit and sweet cheese. As a child, I saw it as magic. I would head over and dozens of thin pancakes would be stacked, one on top of another, waiting to be picked up, filled and eaten. How did she ever get them so thin? I could easily eat 4, 5, 6 in a sitting. If I was staying for the weekend, the stack might just last the whole time. Things got harder when my brother came along and I realized I needed to share.
As I grew up, went to college and moved away, crepes became more of a special treat rather than a weekly fixture. I was living in Philly and might head home once every month or so. It’s not that the trip was far, just under two hours when I was really lucky, it’s just that there was too much going on. Life took over. When my friend and I moved into our tiny row house in Philly it somehow dawned on me to try my hand at crepes. I’ve never been very good at being Polish, other than the fact that cooking for two means feeding an army, so I didn’t pursue a traditional naleśniki recipe. Instead, I found a simple crepe recipe and practiced. At first my crepes weren’t much thinner than regular flapjacks, but over time, my skill improved. I would make crepes every few weeks, usually for breakfast, filled with whatever fresh fruit was on hand. I don’t think they ever became as thin as my grandmother’s but for our purposes, they were fine.