Corn Crêpes with Quick Tomato Tracklement*

July 5, 2008

DIET, DESSERT AND DOGS has moved! 

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As always, thanks for reading.  I look forward to seeing you at the shiny new Diet, Dessert and Dogs!

“Um, Mum, we are coming with you, aren’t we? Because (and sorry to have to tell you this), we actually have more fans than you do on this blog.” 

 

* [or Concasse, if you prefer the more conventional term. . . but I just loved the word "tracklement" ever since I read it on Lucy's blog, and besides, "Tomato Tracklement" is just so much more alliterative.]

Last weekend was our Canada Day holiday, and this year I learned an important lesson.  No, it wasn’t “Canada is 141 years old” (even though it was).  Uh-uh, it wasn’t “Canada is a vast and picturesque, multicultural and welcoming country in which to live” (I already knew that one).  Nope, not even “Although Canada is a vast and picturesque, multicultural and welcoming country in which to live, a summer full of rain really sucks–almost as much as a typical Canadian winter.” And finally, nay, it also wasn’t “The Girls are still scared of fireworks” (really, talk about stating the obvious). 

No, dear readers, the all-important lesson I learned this past weekend was simply this:

Never (and I mean never) attempt to drive across the province at the beginning of a long July 1st weekend.

Elementary, you say?  Well, for some reason, the HH and I, despite 10 years of trekking from Toronto to Montreal and back on a regular basis, have never traveled that particular stretch of the 401 on the long Canada Day weekend.  This year, with my dad turning 87, we decided it was a necessity.  

Big mistake.

BIG.

The 500-kilometre (about 315 mile) drive usually takes us between 4.5 and 6 hours, depending on (A) time of departure; (B) weather conditions; (C) who’s driving; (D) number of rest stops; and (E) traffic.  This past weekend, our multiple-choice answer was overwhelmingly, “E,” or really, more like, “EEEEEeeeeee!!!”  To be precise, eight hours’ worth of “E.”

As we slid out of the city and onto the highway, I sensed a barely perceptible increase in the volume of vehicles on the road.  Then, within about five minutes, it became painfully clear: everyone and their canines were heading off to the cottage for the long weekend.  And us?  No cottage; no canines (The Girls were happily ensconced at the doggie daycare for the weekend); and no discernible movement on the roads.  I’d completely forgotten our route included a short span of terrain known as “cottage country” (also known, as the Barenaked Ladies recently reminded us in song, as “Peterborough and the Kawarthas“).  And there we were, the HH and I, motionless amid all the eager, impatient, fidgety and perspiring boaters, gardeners, waterskiers and Barbeque-ers, our wheels moving barely a quarter turn every 10 minutes or so.

Even if we could afford one, I doubt we would actually buy a cottage (and this has nothing to do with the fact that the HH is a role model for “don’t do it yourself-ers”).  Still, I do treasure memories of spending summers at various country houses when I was a kid.  My parents couldn’t afford a cottage, either, but in those days, rentals were abundant and reasonably priced, and didn’t require reservations a year in advance (one summer, in fact, I clearly remember my parents discussing the possibility of escaping the city on the very evening school let out; by the following afternoon, I’d tossed my report card in the closet, pulled my collection of comic books out instead, and we were on the road toward our temporary summer home).

In those days, my parents rented a house through July and August.  They’d pack up the family (my two sisters, our cocker spaniel, Sweeney, and I) in the back of my dad’s station wagon-cum-butcher shop delivery van, and off we went to our rudimenatry cabin in the woods, sans modern amenities or TV. Along with the other husbands, my father helped us settle in the first weekend, then headed back to the city (and his store) during the week, while the rest of us hung around with the moms and kids until the men returned each Friday evening. For five days a week, the wives managed to keep things running smoothly, demonstrating both independence and resourcefulness; yet every Friday, they mysteriously reverted to squeaky voices, soft entreaties and deference, much as early feminists must have done when their soldier-husbands returned from the front.  

In the intervals free from paternal presence, we children would run barefoot along the roadside, plucking thick, flat blades of crabgrass to grip securely between tightly pressed thumbs, then huffing and blowing our makeshift whistles, our postures in supplication to nature.  We’d seek out the other kids whose parents rented homes around the same lake, for day-long games of hide-and-seek, for building sand forts at the lakeside, or for throwing sticks to Sweeney and the other dogs (who, bored with our weak attempts at “fetch,” would lope off and sleep under porches, squirrel-hunt in the woods, or, toward evening, launch a stealth attack on the hotdogs piled on plates beside the Bar-B-Q’s).

By the end of the season, we’d worn ourselves out with outdoor games, our limbs buff and bronzed in variegated strips of earthtone after two months of shifting sleeve lengths.  All the books I’d brought were read and forgotten; I’d colored and drawn and written in my journal about my adventures; my younger sister and I had picked countless plastic sandbuckets full of wild blueberries from the hill at the end of town; and we were, finally, ready to go home.

One of my fondest memories is the drive back south, passing field after field of farmers’ corn as it just approached ripeness.  The long, elegant leaves swished and swayed in the breeze like our own welcoming committee, a troupe of Hawaiian dancers greeting tourists as they disembark from the plane.  By the time school resumed, we were eating fresh cobs of corn with our dinners, juice trailing down our chins and our cheeks flecked with wayward bits of yellow like reverse freckles on our tanned faces.

I reminisced about that incomparable corn as I contemplated Pancakes on Parade, the event hosted by Susan of The Well Seasoned Cook.  I had already decided (though I love sweet pancakes and make them whenever there’s an excuse) that I wanted to do something savory for this event.  Corn cakes are a long-time favorite, and they seemed the perfect choice.  And while there’s nothing quite like a plump, fresh cob of grilled or steamed corn, juicy and sweet and eaten with the same enthusiasm usually reserved for long-absent lovers, sometimes it’s just impossible to acquire the fresh kind.   That’s when frozen, or even canned (heresy!) come in handy.

The crêpes are based on a recipe I created a few years ago for a brunch event.  This time, however, I decided to pair them with a sweet and tart tomato concasse, and the combination improved the overall effect considerably.  The tracklement cooks up really quickly, in just the right amount of time to serve alongside the crêpes.  Savor these right away, or wrap up for later consumption–they’d make a great snack if you ever find yourself stuck on the highway for eight hours or so.

Corn Crêpes with Quick Tomato Tracklement

TO VIEW THE COMPLETE RECIPE, PLEASE VISIT THIS PAGE ON THE NEW DIET, DESSERT AND DOGS, BY CLICKING HERE.

A savory pancake with occasional bursts of sweetness in juicy corn kernels, these are great with the accompanying tomato concasse for brunch or light dinner. Or use with other savory spreads such as hummus or avocado mayonnaise.

TO VIEW THE COMPLETE RECIPE, PLEASE VISIT THIS PAGE ON THE NEW DIET, DESSERT AND DOGS, BY CLICKING HERE.

23 Responses to “Corn Crêpes with Quick Tomato Tracklement*”

  1. VeggieGirl Says:

    Yikes – good lesson to learn, haha :0)

    What a gorgeously-plated dish!

  2. Courtney Says:

    Oh my goodness–those sound fabulous! I think I may try them with chickpea flour…

    Your drive does NOT sound nearly as nice as your crepes–I am sorry that happened! It is the same around here on Holiday weekends (or, really, any summer weekend!) when everyone goes “up north” to their cabins. I have yet to venture “up north” and try to avoid the highways at all costs on Friday afternoons!

    Courtney


  3. My oh my, those crepes look good.

    My poor puppies are terrified of fireworks too.

  4. shellyfish Says:

    I agree, Tracklement all the way!
    So sorry about your evil traffic woes…so uncool. But hey, you have some lovely savory crêpes, so that’s a positive! :)


  5. Beautiful story about your childhood summers. I, too, have treasured memories of childhood summers spent out in the woods, runnning around, picking berries, etc.

  6. Vegan Dad Says:

    Ah, holiday traffic. I live so far north now that I have to travel south to get to the cottage. And I make a point of smiling and waving at the poor saps on the other side of the highway.

  7. Ricki Says:

    VeggieGirl,
    Thanks! Somehow, I thought the plate was more gorgeous than the dish–but the crepes sure did taste good!

    Courtney,
    I think chickpea flour is a brilliant idea for these! I’m sure they could be made GF without too much trouble, too. And you are so smart re: weekend driving–normally we would never have found ourselves on the highway on that date, but I guess my dad was worth it ;)

    CCV,
    Thanks! And don’t you just feel awful for the pups? Wish I had Cesar Millan around at those times. . .

    Shellyfish,
    Yes, the crepes were definitely a positive! And now I know never to drive on a long weekend!

    Lulu,
    Thanks so much. Funny the things we remember, isn’t it? I’m sure at the time I probably didn’t find it all so picturesque and idyllic. . . but it sure seems that way now :)

    Vegan Dad,
    Lucky you–I am sooo jealous! Always nice to be the one driving AGAINST the traffic (and I seem to recall some guy smiling and waving at us as we inched along. . . .) ;)

  8. Johanna Says:

    that drives sounds awful – hope you had something decent on the car stereo – I hate going away on long weekends or school holidays because I can’t stand the crowds! But it never seemed like there were these huge crowds when we went away when I was a kid.

    My favourite holiday house was probably the one at the beach half an hour up the road that my aunt owned when I was young. I loved hearing about your summer holidays – sound fantastic! And so do your corn cakes – one of the things I love for brunch if on offer when we eat out (and love tomato tracklement!)

  9. giz Says:

    Pass the crepes, I’m cryin’ in my towel here. What a yucky trip. My neighbours took the same trip – must have left at a completely different time and couldn’t believe that they made the trip in just short of 5 hours. Timing is everything.

  10. Lucy Says:

    Ah, family holidays. Summer. Corn. Lovely stuff.

    Beautiful recipe. Have been obsessing over smoked paprika over the last couple of years. Here, it must be heaven.

    Glad you’re on the Tracklement Train. I could say it out loud all day, and never tire of its musicality.

  11. Aly Says:

    Sorry your traffic commute was so epic. I feel your pain–I’ve made the Toronto-Ottawa commute a couple dozen times, ranging from 4-8 hours. eesh. I met a guy from the prairies once who referred to the 401 as the “Autobahn of Ontario”. I looked and him and burst out laughing, and said “Have you BEEN on the 401?” “Well, no…” I wonder why prairie people think that.


  12. Your pictures are stunning. Corn crepes, what a delicious idea. I love your suggestion to pair it with avocado mayonaisse. I will be making this dish!

  13. Ricki Says:

    Johanna,
    Luckily, the HH never forgets music for a long drive. . . a beach house sounds like a great place for kids to spend the summer, too! And I agree about the crowds–the weekend would have been so much nicer w/o them, but that’s part of being in a big city, I guess!

    Giz,
    No tears, please ;) Next time, I’m following your neighbours.

    Lucy,
    I’ve also fallen in love w/ smoked paprika. And the wonderful sound of the “T” word, of course ;)

    Aly,
    Thanks so much for your comment! That observation the Prairie guy made is too funny. . . I guess they have fewer cars on the roads out there ;)

    Voracious Vegan,
    Thanks so much for your comment! Do let me know what you think if you try them out. :)

  14. holler Says:

    What a dreadfully long and frustrating drive that must have been, but I am pleased in a way, because it prompted this post and I did enjoy hearing about your childhood memories! Lovely food as always :)

  15. Lisa Says:

    Well, I really wish I was having these for dinner tonight. Starred!

  16. LisaRene Says:

    Excellent recipe! My favorite Argentinean restaurant serves a version of this and I just love it!

    Summers spent at a lake house… I wish all families had the opportunity. My childhood summers were spent at a lake house in Michigan. We would go to the same cabin for one month every year. Wonderful!

  17. Astra Libris Says:

    I love love love the alliteration in the recipe title! Such a gorgeous recipe, too… sounds even better than sweet pancakes – and that’s high praise! :-) Sending traffic sympathy your way – very few things are more frustrating… On a brighter note, I thoroughly enjoyed reading about your childhood summers – your memories are so beautifully described…

  18. Jeff Says:

    Wow, that really looks great. Argentinean food is new to me.

  19. jessy Says:

    eek! sadface on all the traffic!

    the crepes look amazing, and the tomato tracklement looks divine!! what a beautiful combination – and one i’ll have to try!

  20. Ashley Says:

    Oh my these look good! I’ve never heard of a concasse before (though Google just filled me in).

  21. Ricki Says:

    Holler,
    Thanks for the sympathy! I must admit, your recent holiday sounded much better than our little trip! (Well, it was really nice once we got there. . .)

    Lisa,
    Thanks! Thought you might appreciate the extra grains added in ;)

    LisaRene,
    I had no idea these might be Argentinean–how cool that there’s a similar recipe in a restaurant! And your lake house in Michigan must have been lovely–so many beautiful areas in that state.

    Astra Libris,
    Well, with your own wordplay, I’m not surprised you liked the alliteration. And thanks for the traffic sympathy (and glad you enjoyed the childhood reminiscences!) :)

    jessy,
    Thanks so much! Let me know how you like them if you do give them a try.

    Ashley,
    I could have just said “tomato sauce,” of course–but not as much fun to write! ;)

  22. Lisa Says:

    I love your story! It is so nicely written it takes me back there with you. I like your description of the change in the moms when the men show up for the weekend.

    Your Crepes and Tracklement look fantastic too!

  23. Susan Says:

    Eh. Sounds like trying to get out to Montauk ANY day Thursday-Sunday during the summer.

    Thanks for the great recipes for Pancakes on Parade.
    Another few weeks for good local corn; then I’ll be scraping kernels off the cob, too. : )


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