Crespelle alla Fiorentina

In Florence, crespelle are not breakfast food. They are a primo piatto, a first course served at proper dinners, and Americans who categorize them with pancakes and French toast reveal their misunderstanding of Italian meals. I tell you this not to scold but to liberate you: make these for a dinner party. Your guests will remember them.

The filling is spinach and ricotta, and here is where most cooks fail. They squeeze the spinach once, pronounce it dry, and wonder why their crespelle weep liquid onto the plate. The spinach must be wrung until your hands ache. Then wring it again. Water is the enemy of this dish. Every drop you leave behind will dilute your filling and make your crepes soggy. There are no shortcuts worth taking.

The crespelle themselves are thinner than French crêpes, more delicate, barely there. They exist to hold the filling, not to compete with it. You will make them in a small pan, swirling quickly, stacking them as you go. The first one or two may tear. This is normal. By the third, your hand will know what to do.