I oil my frying pan and turn on the induction burner. I combine the eggs, flour, milk, water, melted butter, and a pinch of salt in my worn mixing bowl.
I scoop out batter and pour it onto the hot surface, listening to the mixture sizzle as I rotate the pan to coat the bottom. My terrier sits near me on the kitchen floor, hopeful for a handout.
The rhythm of creation puts me in a groove. I make one crepe, then another, and another. My stack of crepes grows taller, filled with misshapen discs when the batter didn’t quite cover the bottom of the pan.
I hear the sound of my husband’s car pulling into the driveway and my terrier bounds for the door. “Hey,” my husband says as he walks into the kitchen, “It’s really smoky in here, like the smoke alarm might go off…”
I shrug and smile. We both know I can’t see much haziness with my glare issues. I flip on the range hood and thank my husband for the warning.
Always vent your cooking food, no matter what you prepare on the stovetop. Or, marry someone swell who reminds you to vent.