Just another reason it's great to be Danish. Or partially Danish. I made these for breakfast on Father's Day and they were so amazingly yummy. The recipe is from Williams Sonoma and because it was a special occasion, I followed it less vaguely than I would have otherwise done. That's love, dear reader--don't let Hollywood tell you any different. Side note: I sort of take umbrage with Williams Sonoma and their ilk (meaning you, MS), because I suspect them of targeting perfectly approachable recipes and saying things like, "How would you like to become mysterious and unfathomable?" And the recipe, who is fresh off the farm, says "Shucks! Why not? Sounds like fun!" So the WS people make the recipe talk with a fake accent and say things like, "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains!" over and over, until she is finally ready for her debut. Then they take her to Ascot and before you know it, the room is abuzz regarding the origins of this lovely ingenue and bookies start taking bets over whether or not she hails from the kitchen of an obscure European monarchy. And after that, you can never talk to this recipe without first whipping out a Tahitian vanilla bean, slicing it lengthwise, scraping the seeds from the pod and laying them at her feet.
Because I was looking at this particular recipe (at 7:00 in the morning) and thinking, "Really, Williams and Sonoma? Really. You want me to separate three eggs, beat the whites on high speed until stiff but not dry peaks form, and then, using a rubber spatula, gently stir them into the batter in two additions?" I mean, I may as well go ahead and italicize the entire sentence--that's how wrong it is! Just thinking about this made me so irate I was practically on the verge of not separating those eggs altogether! But then I thought about my mom, and how proud she would be if only she could see me getting a recipe right for once in my life, and I went ahead and did it just like WS said. Except when it came time to add the stiffened whites? I dumped them in all at once. We all have our limits, franchement!
p.s. franchement--that's French for "frankly", but the great thing about franchement is that it's like the Mafia hitman uncle to its simpering English counterpart. You look way tougher when you say franchement. Which is about the only time French will do that for you.