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Created by Chef Ally
A thin, lacy buckwheat crepe from Brittany, its nutty edges crisped in butter, folded around pools of melted Gruyère and a farm egg with a golden, trembling yolk that spills when you cut into it.
I ate this galette for the first time in a stone farmhouse in Brittany, and I have never forgotten it. The cook cracked an egg from her own hens onto a buckwheat crepe, grated cheese from a local dairy, folded the edges, and slid it onto my plate. The diners applauded. Not for her technique, which was simple, but for the sourcing. The egg, the cheese, the buckwheat grown in nearby fields. Everything had a story, and everything tasted of exactly what it was.
Buckwheat is not wheat at all. It is a seed, earthy and slightly tannic, with a flavor that pairs naturally with rich things: butter, eggs, aged cheese. The Bretons understood this centuries ago. They made galettes because buckwheat grew in their rocky soil when wheat would not, and they filled them with what they had.
The batter needs time. An overnight rest in the refrigerator transforms it from gritty to silken, allowing the flour to hydrate fully. This is not extra work. It is simply planning ahead, mixing a batter the night before so you can have a perfect breakfast the next morning. The galette itself takes minutes. A hot pan, a thin swirl of batter, cheese melting, an egg setting gently, the edges folding in. Your choices shape the food system. Seek out eggs from pastured hens and cheese from makers who care. The galette will reward you.
Quantity
1 cup (120g)
Quantity
1
Quantity
1 1/4 cups
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| buckwheat flour | 1 cup (120g) |
| large egg (for batter) | 1 |
| cold water | 1 1/4 cups |
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