Puff Pancake with Strawberries

Adapted from The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child

I have pretty much edited my blog not to have stories like this because most people are not really interested. I am leaving this one because I like it so much. You can, of course, skip down to the recipe.

The first year Dick and I were married, we lived in St. Louis. A disc jockey he knew from his days in Philadelphia was also living there, and he and his girlfriend invited us to their house for dinner. The disc jockey was famous, and I remember his name. I’m embarrassed—and sorry—to say I can’t remember the name of his girlfriend. But I can picture her perfectly.

She was lovely—very small, almost elf-like—with short brown hair, irrepressibly curly, big blue eyes, and a wide, sincere smile. But what I remember most about her is not that she was so very pretty. It’s that, up to that point in my life, she made the best meal I had ever eaten at someone else’s house. The actual best.

I’m sure we had a starter, and I’m sure it was good, but I don’t remember it. What I do remember is the main course. It was rich and delicious with a capital D, and it was the first Julia Child recipe I ever ate: Suprêmes de Volaille à Blanc from The French Chef Cookbook—simple, elegant, and rich, rich, rich. I don't remember what else we had with it, but I remember that we drank Champagne and talked and laughed and ate. We were all relaxed and happy.

But that’s not the point of this story. This is.

As we were finishing dinner, the elf left the table and disappeared into the kitchen for a short time. I didn’t suspect that she was an alchemist as well as a cook, but I soon discovered otherwise. She came back, and we continued eating until there wasn't a morsel left on a plate. She wouldn’t let me help clear the table, and after she whisked the plates away, I could hear her rustling around in the kitchen. Doors were opening and closing. Dishes were clicking. Cutlery was clinking.

And then she came back through the doorway carrying a bowl of strawberries in one hand and another of softly whipped cream in the other. She placed both bowls on the table and disappeared into the kitchen for a split second, re-emerging immediately with a frying pan from which a large browned puff was swelling. She put the pan on the table and deftly cut the large puff into four pieces, which she plated and topped with one large spoonful of strawberries and another of lightly vanilla-scented whipped cream.

My husband and I were speechless—first because the sight of this dessert was breathtaking, and then when our mouths were full. The closest thing I had ever eaten to it was my Aunt Rita’s Yorkshire pudding—and it was very close—but the Yorkshire pudding was cooked in beef fat, topped with gravy, and was savory. This was dessert—just sweet enough, all cold and hot and eggy and creamy at the same time, with the surprise of toasted, buttery, sliced filberts on the bottom. It was a grand ending to a very good dinner. After some coffee and brandy, we went home sated and comfortable after a night filled with good company, delicious food and drink, and new friends in a new town.

The next day, I went to the bookstore and bought my first Julia Child cookbook, a little paperback copy of The French Chef Cookbook. On Wednesday, an envelope addressed to me—written in very neat, small red handwriting—was waiting when I got home from work. Inside was the recipe for Puff Pancake with Strawberries. Written in a small printed hand, it completely filled an entire side of an 8½-by-11-inch piece of ruled paper. I put that piece of paper in a little accordion file that a friend had given me at my bridal shower, filled with her favorite handwritten recipes. I still have that file, and I still have those recipes, and—more years later than seems possible—I still have that piece of paper with the precise red handwriting.

There is no signature, but there is an admonition to SERVE AT ONCE, and the following note is at the bottom:

“Filberts are 100-times more delicious than walnuts. Also, Victoria, there’s really no trick to making this pancake—it’s extremely EASY. However, it must go straight from the oven to the table piping HOT since it, like a soufflé, loses its puff rather quickly. Also, do try it for a Sunday brunch with sausage or whatever, topping it with sour cream—it really adds a new dimension to the dish. And serve with Champagne.”

I pass on the recipe with thanks to the elf, along with apologies for not remembering her name and perhaps also for calling her an elf—which I mean only to say she seemed to me a most magical being who introduced me to this delicious dessert and to Julia Child. I may not remember her name; however, I have never forgotten her or that evening.

A number of years after that evening, I was living in Atlanta when someone who worked at WGBH in Boston—the station that produced Julia Child’s The French Chef—came to my house for dinner. I didn’t serve the puff pancake that night, but I did make the chicken dish and told the story of how I came to know it.

A few weeks later, as a complete surprise, I received a hardcover copy of The French Chef Cookbook in the mail, inscribed:

“Bon Appétit to Victoria Carr — The French Chef, Julia Child”

Puff Pancake with Strawberries

Serves 4

2 eggs
½ cup milk
½ cup all-purpose unbleached flour
Dash of nutmeg
½ cup butter
½ cup thinly sliced filberts (hazelnuts), about 2 ounces, or walnuts, crushed
Juice of ½ lemon
2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
1 quart strawberries, sliced and sugared
Whipped cream (if serving as dessert)
Sour cream (if serving for brunch with sausage or the like)

Beat the eggs lightly in a mixing bowl. Add the milk, flour, and nutmeg, and beat by hand until blended. The batter may still be a little lumpy.

Melt the butter in a 10- to 12-inch skillet with a heatproof handle over medium heat until the butter begins to foam. Stir in the filberts.

Pour the batter into the hot skillet over the filberts. Bake in a preheated 425°F oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the pancake is puffed and golden brown. Sprinkle with the lemon juice and return to the oven for 2 to 3 minutes.

Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar and SERVE AT ONCE, cutting into wedges and topping with strawberries and whipped cream for dessert or sour cream for brunch.