Nalysnyky (налисники, curd-filled crepes)

The best nalysnyky are not the tidy ones. They come from the oven butter-glossed, crowded together, their pale edges browned where the pan has kissed them, the sweet curd soft inside and the raisins swollen like little dark cherries. This is breakfast that has dressed itself for a holiday.

The crepe is only a wrapper, so don't make it thick and proud. It should be thin enough to show your fingers through when you lift it, tender but strong, with just enough egg to bend without tearing. The filling wants good tvoroh, Ukrainian curd cheese, or the closest farmer's cheese you can find. If it is wet, drain it. If it is dry, loosen it with smetana. The cheese decides the dish.

Aunt Nadia wrote this one with her usual kindness to nobody: "bake until it smells finished." I know what she meant now. Butter first smells sweet, then nutty, then the edges of the crepes begin to catch and the whole dish stops being separate parts. That's when you bring it out.

Serve them in a warm stack, enough for eight guests or one hungry Ukrainian, with smetana on the side and a spoon of jam if the table asks for it. A recipe only lives while somebody cooks it, and this one likes a full table.